A Rather Unlooked-For Adventure
by TreebuttonDemigod
Summary: Maybe running away from home was a bad idea. I could have avoided a broken ankle, numerous orc attacks and a pointless journey to some random mountain with a bunch of dwarves (some of whom were TALLER than me, which is insulting, since I'm a freaking ELF). But other than that, I had a great time! (Rated T to be safe. Semi-implied Kili/OC) DISCONTINUED
1. I Really Hate Being Short

**DISCLAIMER: Shadow is mine. Tolkien owns The Hobbit. I am not Tolkien. Have a nice day. =)**

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><p>Today was <em>not<em> a good day.

First, I'd run away. Not what I'd wanted to do, but the insults of everyone I was acquainted with were getting to me. Then I'd been unceremoniously thrown by Star, my oh-so-faithful steed, broken my ankle, accidentally stumbled into an orc pack - and now I was about to become a chopped-up elf sandwich.

I was really short for an elf; saying I was 5'0" was really pushing it. This unnatural shortness was the primary cause of the insulting comments directed at the verbal dartboard. Namely, me. Of course, it wasn't my fault; but my wonderfully kind fellow elves apparently hadn't thought of that. And the fact that I was Thranduil's daughter didn't seem to help my case, for some reason. I suppose being royalty only really counted if you actually, you know, ruled over other people; just being _related_ to someone who had to sit on a fancy chair and wear an uncomfortable crown all day, all the while trying to control a kingdom of elves, was apparently not quite enough to be respected. Running away had, at the time, seemed the perfect solution – but, as you might expect, I was now having serious second thoughts.

As the first of the orcs I'd disturbed charged towards me, jagged sword raised in one lumpy fist, I tried to hop out of the way - I wasn't accustomed to fighting with a broken ankle. Aside from the fact that it was difficult to keep one's balance, my foot also _hurt like the fires of Mount Doom._ Though I managed to dodge the orc's first attack, its blade was rushing towards my face out of the blue on its second swing. I barely managed to deflect it with the hilt of my dagger; instead of slicing off my nose, the sword grazed my chest as it slipped. A thin red stain began to crawl across the front of my shirt. Ouch. _Not_ where I wanted a scratch.

Backing away, I rearranged my grip clumsily on my weapon, glancing behind me as I did so. And there, to my eternal joy and delight, was such lack of trees that could only mean the edge of the forest was _five metres away!_ I shall celebrate forever! Without thinking, I swung round and bolted (or more like awkwardly hobbled in a sort of rapid shuffling gait) towards the forest's perimeter – and found myself standing on the border of a vast plain of brownish grass scattered with some interesting rock formations that, given my current predicament, were completely irrelevant.

I heard the orcs coming after me and decided I'd better move. Admiring the scenery is an event meant for less grave circumstances. Keeping my weight on my good leg, I took a step onto the plain. But that was as far as I got.

A very strange sight met my bewildered eyes. It was the rabbits I noticed first. Giant rabbits. I swear to all the Valar they were as tall as I was. They appeared to be running at top speed, dragging a sled, upon which stood an odd-looking man wearing an odder-looking hat and a crazy grin. This bizarre scene charged out of the woods, unfortunately chased by wargs. _Wargs?_ Not good.

It was so mind-bogglingly odd that I was for a moment frozen in shock. That changed when an unpleasant growl right behind me announced the orc's unwelcome presence, accompanied by the rasp of a sword being drawn. With a yelp of indignation, I whirled and threw my dagger point-blank at the brute's ugly forehead. The orc promptly collapsed.

I had to leave my weapon; the creature's friends were almost upon me with identically angry expressions. Turning on one heel without any of the agility of the elf that I was, I risked a dash over the exposed plain, running as fast as my ankle could stand. I'm sure I looked rather comical, speed-hopping away from a pack of orcs holding sharp objects and snarling like wild animals. I made it to the first interesting boulder and ducked behind it – not a moment too soon; the crazy rabbit-man whizzed past over the area I'd just crossed, with the dozen or so wargs still on his tail. Some of said wargs had orc riders on their backs, unfortunately not looking the majestic sight they seemed intent on creating. I crept to the other side of the rock (as opposed to the side the wargs had disappeared round) and – once again – froze, stunned, as yet another scene that made my jaw drop ran out of the woods.

Gandalf was leading them. _Gandalf?_ Yes, it was he – same grey robes, same staff, same beard, same pointy hat. I hadn't seen him since his last visit to Mirkwood, _quite_ a long time ago. Behind him, to my displeasure, hurried a less welcome group: a ragtag team of thirteen dwarves – _dwarves._ Oh, _great._ Wait – and a hobbit, hurrying along behind. Seriously?

Gandalf was going to tell me the _exact reason_ for this extremely peculiar occurrence.

I wasn't pleased about the dwarves showing up. After all, I'd been brought up in a very anti-dwarf environment. Should it not be natural for me, under such circumstances, to retain a negative opinion of the dwarven race? I didn't want to alert them to my presence, either; no doubt they disliked me in a similar way, especially since my father had told me how he'd refused to save some dwarves from an invading dragon. But still, this was Gandalf. He'd helped me out plenty of times before – an old family friend, you know (I'm fairly certain he's a friend of everyone save Sauron and his minions) – and right now, I did have to admit that I _was_ in need some quite serious and immediate assistance.

"Gandalf!" I yelled by way of greeting, limping painfully towards him. Thankfully, the group were not currently on the move. They'd paused for breath by an interesting boulder.

At the sound of my voice, Gandalf (along with all the dwarves and the hobbit) turned towards me, eyes widening as they caught sight of me. "_Shadow!_" Gandalf exclaimed – yes, that was the name I went by. He hurried out to meet me, putting a hand on my shoulder and steering me towards the safety of the large rock. Unfortunately, he was also leading me towards the dwarves. No one should be surprised if I said I wasn't entirely happy with that. Avoiding all eye contact with the thirteen aforementioned beings, I – not without some reluctance – allowed the wizard to steer me in their direction.

"What in the world are you doing here?" the wizard demanded, though not in an angry manner. So I did my best to explain the events of the past three days – running away, losing my horse and meeting my new friends the orcs. Gandalf nodded grimly as I explained about my broken ankle, then bent and muttered some unintelligible words over it. The pain suddenly disappeared. "That is all I can do," he informed me, straightening. "The bones have temporarily mended, so you'll be able to run at least."

"Temporarily?" I asked suspiciously. I cautiously put weight on my ankle and was relieved to discover that it didn't hurt, although it still felt rather weak and delicate. Guess it would have to do for the time being.

"After perhaps an hour, the spell will wear off. I am sorry to say that it will leave your ankle as broken as ever," Gandalf said grimly. "I cannot mend it properly; given either time or proper treatment, it will heal by itself."

I nodded my thanks. As the rabbit-man shot by yet again, _still_ being chased by the wargs and orcs – all of whom had less-than-friendly expressions on their unpleasant faces – we all abandoned cover and ran for it. There was no time to inquire about Rabbit-man, since we were sprinting for the nearest interesting rock formation as fast as we could. As the dwarves at the head of the group dashed around it, the ongoing chase – rabbits, madman, wargs, orcs and all – sped into view.

"Ori, no!" the leading dwarf warned, grabbing the arm of a youngster as said dwarf (apparently not noticing the danger) continued to run. The leader, as he appeared to be, not least by his clothes and demeanour in general, dragged Ori back by the collar and we all sprinted the other way, at last putting our backs against the nearest interesting boulder for a brief respite.

That was when a low, menacing growl reverberated through the air from above us – a warg's growl – accompanied by the padding of heavy paws against the top of the rock we'd chosen to rest at. As the warg – and by the smell, an orc as well – approached, I happened to notice the lead dwarf catching the eye of a younger, beardless dwarf who bore a somewhat similar appearance to said leader. Maybe they were related. The older dwarf's eyes shifted to stare pointedly at the bow the beardless one carried. I didn't know dwarves could use bows; but it turned out the young dwarf's skill was excellent, as he whipped out an arrow without hesitation, dashed into the open and neatly impaled the warg through the eye with a satisfactory crunch. Good thing I'm not squeamish; I can name a few female elves my age who would faint at such a noise. Oh, Duvainien, I wish you were here, if only to laugh as you fell to the ground in an amusing state of unconcsiousness.

The warg tumbled limply off the rock like an rather more canine version of Duvainien, but the orc leapt off its dead mount's back and charged us, shrieking indecipherably in orcish. I whipped out my second dagger instinctively and darted forwards to meet it, determined to make up for the trouble I'd had over the past twelve hours by taking it out on the ugly creature before me. A brief struggle – in which the orc would not stop screeching – ensued, until I managed to jam my blade in the creature's chest. With a final parting wail, it collapsed. I yanked my dagger out of the orc's flesh, rubbed it clean on the almost knee high grass that surrounded us, and sheathed it with finality. I was suddenly uncomfortably aware of every singly dwarf watching me with expressions ranging from surprise to dislike to outright disgust. I didn't need a reminder of the ancient elf-dwarf rivalry, thanks.

I observed that the leader was among the glaring dwarves; the one called Ori was eyeing me with surprise and possibly curiousity; and the young archer simply stared, as though he'd never heard of an elf before. I cleared my throat awkwardly.

We were all interrupted from our embarrass-the-elf session by the horribly familiar howls of wargs that reminded us we weren't out of danger by a long, _long_ shot. I could only presume they'd heard their friend's dying cries in the annoyingly echo-y plain, which was just _incredible,_ of course. Gandalf yelled, "RUN!", which seemed pretty obvious to me. And so we ran.

With my amazing elven super-senses, I was able to both hear and smell our pursuers closing in (though with the racket they were making, combined with the fact that orcs probably never bathe, I'm sure it was obvious to everyone). My new companions definitely knew it as well, as they poured on the speed. I never knew dwarves could move so fast when they wanted to. They were nearly as fast as me, and I like to consider myself quite an able runner. Well, I suppose if a pack of wargs is trying to kill you, it's a good incentive to keep up a decent pace.

At last we found ourselves standing in the middle of a slight depression in the ground, as though a large creature had gone for a stroll over the plains and left its footprints in the ground. Back to back, the dwarves, the hobbit, Gandalf and I formed a defensive circle, watching the rim tensely for any sign of the wargs. Despite the danger we were in, I had to suppress a laugh at the fact that I, the elf who'd been brought up in an environment where not one positive opinion about dwarves existed, was fighting alongside thirteen of them as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

This was utterly ridiculous. And slightly embarassing.

I, the beardless archer and a blonde dwarf who somewhat resembled the latter in appearance stood some way out from the tight circle. The blonde dwarf, whose beard was still in the process of developing (unlike his moustache, which he wore in magnificent double braids) was scouting ahead to decide _exactly_ how bad our predicament was. I kept position about halfway between the cluster of dwarves and the rim of the depression, as taut as the bowstring that was pulled back in my right hand. A quick glance proved that the beardless dwarf was doing likewise.

The first of the wargs crested the edge of the small bowl; my arrow solidly struck its chest before it even saw me. I allowed myself a tight smile as it tumbled to the ground, spilling its orc rider into the long grass. Said orc rider let out an indignant shriek of protest (ha, like anyone cared) as it fell. A few seconds afterwards, the young blonde dwarf came barrelling back towards us. "We're surrounded!" he called, his voice strained with agitation. He drew two blades, gripping them with the ease of a practiced fighter. Taking up position with the rest of the group, he stood with he knees slightly bent, waiting with a kind of exhilarating anticipation for our enemies. I assumed he was the daredevil sort, with the sort of recklessness that comes only with youth.

Cries of "where's Gandalf?" suddenly erupted from the dwarves behind me. Then a deep, accusing voice growled, "he's abandoned us!"

"He wouldn't do that!" I murmured to myself in quiet disbelief, distracted for a few seconds from the more important task of killing wargs as I glanced behind me in alarm, but Gandalf was indeed not among us at the present moment. Maybe he'd invented some sort of potion that rendered the person in question invisible? Before I could even begin to come up with an alternative explanation for his absence, the wargs (they were beginning to get annoying now) started pouring over the rim of the depression with every intent to rip us all to shreds for unknown reasons besides the fact that they were evil.

I pushed the wizard's disappearance out of my mind with some difficulty and nocked another arrow; the young archer was already shooting. Of course, he probably hadn't been distracted by Gandalf's absence. I cursed my wandering attention and let my arrow fly. It found its mark in the chest of an orc rider – that was the good news. The bad news was that while the beardless dwarf and I had been occupied killing wargs as they appeared on the left, more of our enemies were appearing on the other side unchecked. I heard yells behind me and, starting to panic on behalf of the... less able fighters (the hobbit really did not belong in this fight), I began to inch backwards towards them, prepared to drop my bow and whip out my remaining dagger if the need arose. Then suddenly, Gandalf's unmistakable voice: "This way, you fools!"

Hey, who was _he_ calling a fool? I was no fool!

Darting a backwards glance, I was nearly forced to cover my mouth with a hand to stifle a laugh at the sight of the wizard's head and shoulders and pointed grey hat protruding from what appeared to be a hole of some sort in the large boulder to my left. The clustered dwarves, with no time for cries of relief, broke ranks and ran towards him; after all, the name of 'Gandalf' was universally synonymous with the word 'safety' and these dwarves were no exception. The leading dwarf guarded the entrance to the hollow as the rest of the party, one by one, leapt into it and disappeared from view.

The wargs and orcs were still advancing. I nailed the closest warg in the eye and was about to shoot another when I realised that Gandalf was calling my name. The beardless dwarf and I paused, glanced at each other, then turned tail and sprinted for safety.

As we ran for our lives, I ended falling into stride beside the archer. I was no taller than he was, which was kind of insulting; after all, he was a _dwarf._ Elves were supposed to be of very significant height in comparison. He extended one hand in a friendly gesture that seemed far too casual for such an instance. "Kili," he said (or rather, forced out whilst panting for breath) by way of introduction. I shook the hand as best as I could while being furiously chased by a pack of orcs and wargs that were screaming for blood on one sunny day in the middle of a large grassy field. "I'm Elendaé, but you can call me Shadow," I managed in between gasps... oh, it's been been a long time since I'd had to do so much running.

Kili flashed a grin. A guarded one, yes, but it was still a smile. _Glad to see someone's cheerful at a time such as this_. Then we were leaping through the gap in the rocks and tumbling rather painfully on a hard stone floor. Some kind of cave? I didn't care. All I could do was lie on my side where I'd landed and struggle to regain oxygen.

When I'd finally got my breath back, I stood and leant against the nearest wall. The snarls and yells and stamping feet of our enemies (points had to be docked for complete lack of stealth) were still drawing closer. My fingers curled around my dagger; if any of our pursuers decided to follow us into this cave, my bow wouldn't be much good when it came to fighting up close. Around me, the other members of the group likewise clutched at their weapons, preparing for another attack.

Then a horn blew. An _elven_ horn. The brief cries of clear voices; the pounding of hooves; the song of bowstrings as arrows were fired; and chaos broke out above us. All of sudden, an orc's corpse rolled over the edge of the hole and thudded to the floor of our cave, face frozen in a grotesque scream. An elegant arrow was embedded in its flesh.

The lead dwarf jerked the shaft free, studying the arrow with an expression of mounting disgust and anger. "Elves," he growled, casting the arrow to one side. He made the word sound like an insult, and I fought the urge to give in to indignation and yell, "EXCUSE _ME!_".

I settled for shooting a glare in his direction. Unfortunately for me, he didn't miss it and took the opportunity to have a go and my innocent self. "You," he growled, "you should go to join your kin up there. No one asked you to come with us. Why are you still here?"

Before he could demand I leave immediately - I was certain that order was going to make an appearance in the very near future - Gandalf spoke up sternly. "Shadow will accompany us a while longer. She is tired and we are near refuge. You will tolerate her for a few more minutes." The leader looked ever so eager to protest, but I managed to make some sort of promise that I wouldn't cause trouble and the dwarf promptly turned his back, seething.

Well. At least he hadn't attacked me or anything, and that was something.

I listened to the fading drumbeat of the horses' hooves as the sound of battle finally receded. A large dwarf hurried to the end of the cave – no, it was a passageway – and turned back to us in a state of evident confusion. ""I cannot see where the pathway leads," he informed us. "Do we follow it or no?"

"Follow it, of course!" a dwarf with a silly hat and a voice that was tinged with a slight accent urged. Gandalf nodded his approval, a small smile on his face.

"I think that would be wise," the wizard murmured, almost to himself. In single file, we entered the narrow underground path that wound its way through the rocks, which turned out to be in fact a ravine – or at least a long, deep crack in the ground – for above us, instead of a stone ceiling, were soaring grey walls that gave way to an azure sky.

The path was so slender that at times the fattest dwarf caused a hold-up by getting himself stuck in the narrower sections. I patiently waited out the struggles of the unfortunate fat dwarf, unlike his companions, who complained in raised voices every time we halted. As the path widened slightly, the disturbances became less frequent. I spent most of my time watching the fluffy clouds riding the emerald sea through the continuous slit overhead. Although I was unaccustomed to travelling with dwarves – or, indeed, with any race other than my fellow elves – there was something peaceful about taking a stroll underground, behind the hobbit, who was mercifully shorter than me (it's not every day I met someone of lesser height than myself) and ahead of Ori. Desiring simply to talk, I hurried forwards until I was directly behind the former of the two I was sandwiched between.

"What brings you on such a journey with these dwarves?" I asked him, to which he glanced round at me in surprise. After a pause, he offered me a small smile and replied, "they, um, they invited themselves into my house one evening and persuaded me to, er, accompany them." His expression made it clear that he didn't appreciate the deed at all. "I fail to see how I will be of any use on this adventure... but Gandalf insisted."

Oh. That didn't exactly correlate with my 'Gandalf=safety' hypothesis. Maybe I needed to revise my impression of the wizard

"Bilbo Baggins, by the way, miss" he added awkwardly, as an afterthought. I smiled warmly at him. I'd heard that hobbits were incredibly polite, and I was _so_ glad he didn't know I was a, erm, princess of sorts. I hated to think how he would have treated me if I told him. It would have being just plain awkward for the two of us both.

"Shadow," I said, returning the greeting. "And, really, there's no need to call me 'miss'. My proper name is Elendaé, but I really would prefer to be called Shadow... elvish names are unnecessarily tricky to pronounce."

Bilbo chuckled, looking as though he was in complete agreement. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Shadow."

I couldn't help grinning. I had to admit that hobbits were among my favourite races in Middle-Earth. At least they didn't seem to be inclined to tease anyone about being short, like _some elves do_ (read: _Duvainien_) - and besides that, I found them fascinating.

At last, the path opened up completely – and I wasn't the only one to freeze on the spot and gasp; most of the dwarves let out exclamations as the valley below came into view. Waterfalls, gardens, balconies, bridges, beautifully made houses, the warmth of the fragrant air... _Rivendell._ The place I'd always wanted to visit. Of course, there always had to be one who didn't feel the same way; Gandalf was arguing with the very reluctant-looking leader, who kept scowling and shaking his head and complaining about elves like the grouchy git that he presents himself to be. But Gandalf apparently won that debate, for at last the lead dwarf reluctantly followed us as we began to descend into the wide valley of Imladris.

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><p>I craned my neck to gaze up at the cliffs and the elegant buildings. This place was so much brighter and more cheerful than my striking but mysterious home in Mirkwood, which was a place in which the atmosphere was more subdued and formal. Rivendell seemed a lot friendlier than my father's halls – more like a place where one could have fun and cause trouble without being reprimanded by Thranduil's deceptively smooth, calm voice. Here, a quiet murmur of voices and the overlapping tunes of flutes and harps emitted from inside the buildings, and now and then I caught glimpses of elves striding through the gardens or stepping out onto balconies to admire the view. <em>This<em> was a place I wanted to live in.

Most of the dwarves and Bilbo were similarly captivated, but there were _still_ some, the leader included, who scowled at everything they saw. I knew they weren't exactly part of the elves' fan club, but they had to be heartless or blind not to appreciate the beauty of Rivendell. Or maybe they just hid their fascination extremely well.

I approached the nearest dwarf, who just so happened to be Kili, and gesticulated vaguely in the direction of the leader. "He doesn't seem to have a very high opinion of elves, and... I'm sort of taking it as a personal insult," I began casually. This is the way I make friends, you know, sauntering up to someone I have never met and asking them the life story of their leader. "So, uh, what's his problem? I know elves and dwarves have had a mutual rivalry for centuries, but _he_ seems to be taking it far too seriously." My narrowed gaze remained fixed with some dislike upon the leader the entire time I spoke.

Kili hesitated. "It's partly to do with the fact that Uncle Thorin, being a typical dwarf, holds that old grudge strongly. He favours his race far above any of the others – maybe because he's technically King under the Mountain, so you can see why he prefers-"

I cut him off. "Your uncle... is a king?" I asked in great surprise, frantically thinking back to check if I'd done anything massively disrespectful. Then I had another thought. "Does this make you _royalty_, then? Some kind of prince?"

Kili's attempt to assume a modest expression failed quite spectacularly. I couldn't help breaking out into slight laughter, even though I realised that it might be insulting to laugh at a prince. After all, they didn't know or need to know that _I_ was related to a king as well. To them I was probably just a common elf with an uncommon height disorder. Thankfully, he only smiled – a little more friendly than before. As I inspected him more closely, I realised that there was a constant gleam in his eyes, a mischievous spark that made me doubt that he took his princeship seriously.

Please tell me he wasn't heir to the throne.

Before I could make any comment on the matter, he continued talking. "Anyway, he's also procured a negative view of the elves firsthand. I heard that when the dragon, Smaug, attacked his home of Erebor – I wasn't born at the time – this elf man refused to help. King of Mirkwood, or something. So of course, he has personal issues - uh, are you all right?"

I remembered to nod, my shock-induced coughing fit clearly audible. I knew my father had done such a deed – heck, I'd been waiting on the front porch as he returned home from said deed – but I never suspected it had been _this_ dwarf king that Thranduil had added to his (long) list of enemies. The fact that I now knew the dwarf my father had wronged made everything much worse.

"That's why... Thorin was so angry when he realised I was still there, back in the cave?" I gasped, attempting to keep my choking under control. "Is it because he _knows_ I'm Thranduil's daughter? Is the grudge personal or something? Surely he doesn't hate _all _elves that much-?"

Oh wait, I hadn't meant to say that. I'd intended to keep as low a profile as possible amongst these semi-hostile beings.

Kili looked horrified. "If Thorin knew you were related to _that_ elf, your name would go right at the top of his kill list, and that's if he doesn't disassemble your limbs first!" he hissed. I hoped he was exaggerating. "Being an elf is already all it takes for him to hate someone. If you enjoy living, I'd advise you not to tell him."

I gulped. "Wasn't planning on it. Thanks for the tip." I flashed an alarmed glance at Thorin. The dwarf fortunately hadn't heard or seen the exchange – he was up front arguing with Gandalf again as we descended – but I made a mental note to stay _out_ of his line of vision as often as possible.

"But... you don't seem to hate me," I ventured in slight bemusement at his neutral demeanor.. "Why is that?"

To my surprise, Kili laughed. "I'm guessing you were brought up in a rather anti-dwarf environment, which is why I'd ask you the same question. To answer yours, it's because I'm guessing the dragon was none of Thranduil's business, and it probably looked too dangerous and hopeless anyway. I'm sure he didn't want to risk any of his men against a dragon he wasn't certain they could defeat... though I have been wondering about it - I mean, Thranduil _could_ have offered the dwarves refuge, seeing as their home had just been destroyed by a _dragon_..." Kili looked rather troubled for a moment and glanced at me uncertainly, then his expression cleared and he continued. "Although I have to admit I'm not too fond of Thranduil, I don't hold as much hostility towards elves in general as Uncle Thorin does, and... as long as they don't turn out like their fathers, some elves aren't _that_ bad." He pointedly raised one eyebrow at me, barely hiding his amusement. "I had my doubts, but you seem pretty friendly." This prompted a wide smile from me, and I nodded cheerfully in thanks.

"I shall take that as a compliment. Pleasure talking," I grinned. Not waiting for a response, I moved forwards at a leisure pace until I had caught up with Bilbo, the only other member of the Company that I was acquainted with (Gandalf still seemed to be preoccupied with an irate Thorin).

"How do you find Rivendell?" the hobbit inquired pleasantly, still gazing around him in delight.

My response was a wide smile. "It's very nice. I need to live here one day," I commented honestly, earning a noise of agreement from Bilbo. "Rivendell just has that - you know - cosiness to it... and it's so pretty..." trailing off, I contented myself with simply drinking in the view as Rivendell's stunning features demanded attention and distracted me from whatever I had been going to say.

We arrived at the foot of the cliffs and crossed a wide, merrily chuckling stream by means of a simple yet elegant bridge. A sort of patio lay before us, guarded on either side by tall stone elves in battle armour. A set of steps at the other end led into the nearest building, at which I concluded that the patio was a kind of entrance hall. A few of the dwarves were _still_ grumbling unhappily, and Thorin was _still_ engaged in discussion with Gandalf, but the atmosphere was otherwise relaxing and comfortable.

A young, dark-haired elf descended the steps to meet us, and I was once again painfully aware of his natural elvish tallness. Forgive me for my natural grudge against the general population of tall people. He thankfully made no comment towards or concerning me, but I did notice his curious glance in my direction and was forced to reign in a glare.

"Mithrandir," the elf said in a smooth elf-y voice. Cutting short his argument with Thorin, Gandalf approached the elf with a warm smile and exclaimed the elf's name - Lindir - in greeting.

Lindir responded in elvish: "We heard you crossed into the valley." As he spoke, Thorin and the big dwarf who had found the entrance to the pathway leading to Rivendell muttered darkly together. I couldn't hear what they said, but they most likely were not praising the elves in awed undertones.

Gandalf apparently didn't deem it necessary to speak in elvish. "I must speak with Lord Elrond," he told Lindir.

"My lord Elrond is not here," the Lindir informed Gandalf solemnly. He looked grave, but in a proud way, which I'm sure is possible when you're his height.

Another begrudging height remark. Sorry.

"Not here?" Gandalf repeated in surprise, a questioning expression on his lined face. "Then where is he?"

Lindir opened his mouth, and was about to answer when the trumpeting of horns – the same elven horns we'd heard whilst huddled inside the cave – echoed across the valley. Gandalf smiled at Lindir knowingly. But as the thunder of galloping hooves swelled behind us, a few dwarves cried out, "form ranks!" and everyone with the exeption of Gandalf and I hastily huddled in a defensive circle, drawing their weapons. Idiot dwarves. These are _elves,_ not orcs, you dimwits.

Then the party of elves, each one seated atop a magnificent horse, rode over the bridge and onto the patio.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading! *Hugs whoever has managed to get this far*<strong>

**...I'm so childish.**

**And who really doesn't like the way Peter Jackson messed up Desolation of Smaug? *Raises hand***

**-Treebutton**


	2. Dwarves, Dresses and Friendship

**DISCLAIMER: I ONLY OWN SHADOW! Characters and plot belong to Tolkien! Or possibly Peter Jackson, since this is based on the films (I have read the book and loved it, but the film version is more enjoyable to write. XD)**

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><p>Elrond and Gandalf embraced as though they were best friends who hadn't met in years. Actually, knowing their life spans and the fact that Gandalf always seemed to be busy, I'm sure that was exactly the case. As the rest of the elves dismounted, I hesitantly moved forwards to introduce myself.<p>

After pausing to bow politely (I don't do curtsies; I've never been very girlish), I said, "uh, so, hello – um, lord Elrond! My name's Elendaé. Though, uh, I much prefer to be called Shadow. It's the name most people use. Some call me Star, but I don't think it suits me because I'm not delicate or beautiful enough to fit the name or anything... wait, I don't think you want to hear me woefully moan in a self-depreciating manner. Moving on." I laughed awkwardly, not sure how to go about this, or even what the heck my life was any more. "And please don't question the height; I promise you I'm an elf. I'm not a hobbit or a she-dwarf with fake pointy ears as some have reason to believe. I am honestly rather tired of hearing people whisper to each other about such unnatural bodily length far too many times, and I've taken enough insults to last the duration of an average elvish life span. Uh, I mean, sorry. Self-depreciating rant again. Never mind." _How to made an idiot of oneself in front of an intimidating elvish lord: by Elendaé. _I really didn't know how to act in front of Elrond, so the natural instinct to start spewing verbal nonsense, which unfortunately grabs hold of me far too often in untimely situations, rather unhelpfully made its appearance.

Fortunately, Elrond chose to find me amusing rather than irritating. At least, he made a good job of hiding his internal thought process: _what a complete weirdo._ He smiled (to my relief) and said in a cool yet kind manner, "it is a pleasure to become acquainted with you, lady Elendaé. I assure you that the residents of Rivendell will not judge you for your height. The occurrence was no fault of yours."

I thanked him, adding, "please, lord Elrond, I'm simply Shadow. I am very much _not_ a lady-" at which Elrond chuckled, "-at least, not a typical one, if you know what I mean." With a smile, I hastily retreated to allow him and Gandalf to continue their discussion in elvish – which, by the way, they did as if I had never so rudely interrupted them with my surprising and confusing outburst.

As I listened with semi-vague interest to the exchange between Gandalf and Elrond - which included an explanation of details I hadn't previously heard, like this quest to kill that dragon named Smaug (which sounded ridiculous to me; how did this group of short people expect to achieve that?) and something about trolls coming down from the mountains - I caught Kili watching me with an odd expression. When I raised an eyebrow at him in a clear "what may your problems be?" gesture, Kili simply stated in a blunt fashion, "you talk a lot."

I rolled my eyes good-naturedly at the comment, silently admitting that this was indeed true, but after the young dwarf had averted his attention to the conversation that was taking place in a language he didn't understand, my ever-inquisitive brown eyes remained fixed on him. I hadn't properly seen him up close before, and upon direct observation it became apparent that my previous comments on his beardlessness were not entirely true. Dark stubble - the clear beginnings of a moustache and beard - traced his jawline and upper lip. His brown eyes were maybe a little darker than mine, and his messy shoulder-length hair was also dark - almost black in colour. I'd always wanted really dark hair; eyeing his, I absently tugged on a strand of my own hair, which was a plain walnut hue, and wondered subconsciously if _all_ teenage dwarves were supposed to be this attractive.

_Woah wait, hold up. I did not just think that._

_Um. Anyway._

Kili noticed me staring and cocked an eyebrow, seemingly in partial amusement and partial confusion. I hastily dropped my gaze, frowning hugely and burning metaphorical holes in the ground with my glare. I didn't dare raise my head from where I had strategically lowered it so that my long hair hid my irritated face, but I heard him chuckling slightly. This prompted a reluctant giggle, which would not stay contained no matter how hard I scowled. Soon the two of us were laughing - him with amusement, me because he was. I've always found laughter in general very infectious and today no allowances were made. Then I glanced up to see Gandalf glaring pointedly at the two of us. So we shut up.

* * *

><p>After a she-elf had taken me to the baths to clean up (she also performed some medical magic on my leg that had apparently fixed my ankle permanently, which was greatly appreciated), I headed to the tables where dinner was being served. Since it was still light - it was only about four-ish in the afternoon - I wanted to protest it didn't count as dinner. But no one else complained, so I decided it was best to keep quiet.<p>

Though I was glad to acquire new clothes, the elves had tried to insist I wear a dress to dinner, even going so far as to remove all other articles of clothing from the bathing room. I had been planning to outfit myself in the plain travelling clothes they'd given me, not the dress. I _hate_ dresses. They were pretty, I guess, but horribly impractical - and did all elf clothes _have_ to trail on the floor? Maybe it was just my diminutive height. That thought didn't improve my mood.

I decided rather quickly that I wouldn't wear it to the dining area. No point drawing unnecessary attention to myself. Sitting on the floor, I pondered on my situation; I couldn't go in the towel, and I was definitely not leaving the room naked.

Fine. I would temporarily outfit myself in the dress, discreetly exit the bathing room, search the entire place until I found something practical to wear, ditch the dress in favour of said practical clothing, and then – only then – would I make an appearance at dinner.

Slipping the long, shiny piece of fabric over my head, I sighed, then quietly left the bathing room (I had to hitch up the dress in order to prevent myself from tripping). In the corridor, it was quiet, though the distant murmur of voices to my right gave away the location of the dining dwarves. A burst of laughter suddenly erupted from the Company, followed by loud, gleeful voices. I shook my head slightly, smiling to myself, then moved off in search of appropriate clothing.

The many rooms along the corridor were all sleeping areas, each with its own wardrobe. I discovered to my disappointment that apparently elves, as a rule, wore only dresses and long robes, none of which I cared for. Travel gear was what I wanted, and so I would not leave the sleeping quarters until I had found some.

After a good quarter hour of frustrated searching, I _finally _happened upon a room in which, it seemed, a male resided, for all the clothes in sight when I pulled the wardrobe door open were clothes bearing a distinct similarity to hunting garments. I would have cheered in ecstasy if it hadn't been so quiet - as it was, afraid to make too loud a noise in the silence, I limited my reaction to jumping on the spot and grinning in satisfaction.

Taking what I needed without a second thought, I dressed myself in an outfit consisting of a brown tunic and leggings that were rather too large for me, so I cut off the ends with the hunting knife at the bottom of the wardrobe. I knew this was probably both stealing and vandalism, but there were _so many_ (five) sets of identical clothing that I was sure two garments wouldn't be missed. And the elves didn't need to know - the elf that had provided my with the dress that now lay on the floor said she wouldn't attend the feast. Hopefully the owner of the borrowed clothes wouldn't be making an appearance either.

Well, it possible that I would get away with this.

Delivering the dumped dress to a random room containing similar items of clothing, I finally allowed myself to walk along the corridor to the right. Upon reaching the door at the end, I paused for a moment, listening to the loud chatter of the dwarves on the other side before pushing past the entrance and striding through the doorway into the dining area.

The dwarves all glanced up at me as I entered and headed hastily towards the long, low table they were all seated at. All of said dwarves – plus one hobbit – seemed to be present except for Thorin, who I then saw sat with Gandalf and Elrond at a separate table nearby. I thought he hated elves. Huh.

Returning my attention to the majority of the dwarvern company, I sat awkwardly in the only place available – a seat opposite Bilbo and a very old dwarf with a large white beard. "Hello," I began with a nervous smile, aware of their eyes on me. As before, their expressions ranged from acknowledgement to suspicion to plain hostility – the latter of which I tried to ignore.

No reply, though Kili returned my awkward grin with a small one of his own, as did Bilbo.

"Well. Um." I coughed, "I, uh, seem to have your undivided attention right now. So..." biting my lip anxiously as I tried to fill the silence my presence had induced, I continued: "can we start with introductions? I go by the name of Shadow, as you may all have worked out by now. So, uh, let's see – I've met Bilbo, and Kili... and can I ask for your name?" I focused expectantly on the elderly dwarf, who wore kindly expression that was to some extent reassuring.

I was subsequently bombarded with a whole lot of names that all sounded the same to me (why did they have to rhyme?) - Balin, Dwalin (by all the Valar, he was scary), Fili - Kili's brother, apparently, which explained the previously noted resemblance between the two - Oin, Gloin, Nori, Ori (I remembered him), Dora - no, it was Dori - Bifur, Bofur... Bumble? Bambi? It was hard to remember that one. I opted to dub him Large One (he was the fat dwarf that kept getting stuck in the passageway, so I deemed the nickname entirely appropriate) until I learnt to remember and correctly pronounce his name.

Fili sniggered as I first attempted to repeat all the names and match each one with its corresponding dwarf (I will simply state that I failed rather badly), but it wasn't scornful or anything – at least, it sounded genuinely amused. A friendly laugh, I decided. One that warmed me like nothing I'd ever experienced. And then Kili patted me on the back as my second attempt was executed far more accurately, and I beamed at no one in particular as I realised that though they weren't exactly my friends yet – that would take time, like everything always did – but some amongst them accepted me, were happy in my presence. In that instant, all the negative opinions emotions I'd previously harboured concerning the race of dwarves vanished. Not all of them were as bad as my father and his subjects had originally made them out to be.

After my laughter had died down to a manageable grin, I loaded my plate with food and began to eat. Oh, I hadn't had this much food since last week, the day I'd left Mirkwood. I was _hungry_.

Before I knew it, the food was gone and I was asking for seconds - which a beautiful male elf kindly provided. Elves were unbelievably pretty. That said, I in comparison was _short_, dirty from travelling and uncommonly plain in appearance. _Why me?_

Excuse me while I take a moment to wallow in self-pity.

The dwarves at the table were having trouble. Ori was disgustedly eyeing a portion of vegetables that lay on his plate. "I don't like green food," he mournfully confessed to Dori. Dwalin, meanwhile, was picking up handfuls of fresh leaves in a bowl in the centre of the table, peering underneath the vegetables as though he thought the elves had hidden his belongings in his dinner. "Where's the meat?" he demanded, looking around him expectantly.

Ignoring him – the dwarves should learn to eat vegetables, they're good for one's health – I struck up a conversation with the old dwarf, Balin, because I was still curious about the dwarvern king. It turned out the reason Thorin was exactly so grumpy was because of numerous events that had turned hard and bitter early on in his life; for example, when he was young, Smaug had destroyed and then decided to take up residence in _his_ home. Then when the dwarves had tried to reclaim Moria, they'd got into a scuffle over it with a few orcs... or maybe like an army of them. This large bad orc, Azog, had beheaded Thorin's father and grandfather, and for some reason he wanted to kill Thorin as well (something about his desire to extinguish the line of Durin forever), until the dwarf prince had cut off Azog's left arm and defeated him. I felt an aching sympathy for the king. No wonder he scowled most of the time.

Once we'd filled ourselves (me with almost more food than I could handle), the sun was setting. Gandalf went off for a chat with Elrond while I retired to my assigned room. Lounging on the large beg with the soft mattress and silken sheets, I contemplated about how much nicer Rivendell was than Mirkwood where everything was gloomy and mysterious, which made the whole place seem quite eerie.

For a while I lay there, simply collapsed on top of the covers, and sank into daydreams the way I did in my old home while I was solitarily roaming the forest. Dreams of running, running fast and free over meadows and hills and streams, running towards the sea where it was said the Grey Havens lay. I wanted to see them for myself – a place where elves lived in eternal joy and peace in a calm sanctuary.

At some point I must have fallen asleep, for the bright rays of dawn greeted me cheerily as I opened my bleary eyes.

Struggling into an upright position, I turned to gaze out of the window, where an optimistic new day was dawning. Determined to make the most of it after so many days of travel, I dragged my fingers through my hair until it was fairly neat, dressed hurriedly into the clothes I'd procured the day before and left my room in search of the dwarves.

There they all were, in the same place as yesterday, this time eating breakfast. Ori was staring sceptically at a lettuce leaf, and Dwalin still wasn't touching the vegetables, but the rest of them had presumably accepted that they would be living on green food for the entirety of their stay in Rivendell and were resignedly crunching down the leaves.

Several of them acknowledged me, though only Fili, Kili and Bilbo actually looked happy about my presence. Balin was smiling in welcome as well, but it was difficult to tell whether or not he was just being polite. I decided to return the few greetings I received and took my place at the table, this time in a seat between Kili and Bilbo.

"Good morning," Bilbo said pleasantly, to which I responded in similar fashion before reaching for the food on the table. It was quieter than the rowdiness of yesterday's dinner, and a few of the dwarves appeared still tired. Wondering how long they'd been up last night, I ate slowly while my thoughts wandered. Fili and Kili, on my right, shared a joke and sniggered quietly together.

After breakfast, I aimlessly explored the area, quietly taking in what I saw and trying to avoid company, though at some point I must have taken a wrong turn, since I found myself hovering in the doorway of a room containing an arguing Gandalf and Thorin. Not wanting to get involved, I backed up and exited. Then I stopped short in surprise when my ears caught the subject of conversation. Eavesdropping never does any harm, I reasoned, and listened in from my spot just outside the room.

"I will not have an _elf-_" (this word was spat contemptuously) "-in my company, Gandalf," came the irate growl of the dwarven king who, from the sound of it, appeared to be pacing back and forth behind the door.

Our resident wizard countered: "Shadow has talents yet unknown to me, but I will tell you that she may be useful to you." _I have talents?_ "I cannot dictate your choices, Thorin, but I must ask you to consider her company."

I could almost image Thorin glowering at Gandalf. "I will not allow it," he insisted stubbornly. "The elves-"

"She is more powerful than you know – more powerful than _she_ knows," Gandalf stated gravely. "This feud may become the death of you. I beg you to think on this, and choose wisely." Then came the swish and slam of someone exiting the room through the opposite door. Thorin – identifiable by his incessant grumbling, followed shortly after, leaving me stood behind the other door in deep and ponderous thought.

Later, at lunch, Thorin was not at either of the tables. Gandalf, however, was conversing amiably with Elrond at the high table as though such argument had never occurred. Deciding not to think too much of it – this was between the two of them alone, and it would be resolved one way or another – I banished it from my mind and chose to converse at random with the nearest person.

Said nearest person was Fili. Well, it _was_ technically Bilbo, who sat on my right – I was at the very end of the table – but he was in deep discussion with Balin, so I didn't interrupt.

"Fili," I began to get his attention. When I had it, I suffered a slight internal panic attack upon the realisation that I didn't have a clue what I was going to say next before blurting out the first thing that came to mind: "it's, um, a nice day."

The dwarf agreed cheerfully, his expression relaxed. "It is. Dwarves usually live underground; we don't usually experience this kind of weather. This is different – I can't say whether it's good or bad, but different nevertheless."

I could relate. "Mirkwood is a gloomy place," I said, nodding. "We aren't often exposed to the open air either, though I'd definitely say it's a nice change to the environment I usually live in." Resting my elbow on the table in order to prop up my chin with one hand, I thought for a moment. "Why... exactly are you on this quest? I get that Thorin is your uncle and everything, but I wouldn't have thought he'd let you and Kili come along for... obvious reasons. Is – is that too person? Sorry if–"

"Uncle wasn't keen on the idea," Kili cut in, joining the conversation. "He told us we were too young, too inexperienced, heirs to the throne and all that. We insisted." He grinned, glancing at his brother who nodded and matched Kili's cheerful expression. "This is our chance to prove our worth and actually have some fun. Find out how good we really are."

I nodded, understanding, and was about to form some kind of reply when Thorin, still evidently in a huff, strode into the dining area and seated himself at the high table. Fili frowned in his direction. "I wonder what's got him all worked up?"

"It's probably all the elves," I couldn't help commenting in an offhanded way, hiding a smile with some difficulty as the grumpy dwarf glared in my general direction before beginning to eat.

* * *

><p>The sun's glare diminished as the blazing orb of fire sank behind the cliffs surrounding the valley, and the day gently dissolved into a peaceful twilight. I headed out of my room, where I'd retired to after lunch and had spent the hours in an endless daydream, and made my way to the place where we'd eaten. I wasn't surprised to find the dwarves still chatting, laughing and still digging into the elves' food supply (they <em>always<em> seemed to be hungry).

Fili and Kili waved at me to join them from the corner. I carefully made my way over, weaving between various dwarves that were strewn across the floor, and deposited myself between them happily. While the two of them exchanged jokes and conversation, I fell into a comfortable silence and listened peacefully, laughing at the remarks that punctuated the air every few seconds and watching with amusement as Bofur threw Large One (_Bombur_, I realised) a sausage, which was caught, but then his chair broke beneath his mighty weight and he fell to the floor with a yelp, to much amusement from the assembled dwarves.

Such behaviour continued for several further hours, and eventually my eyelids began to droop in the warm darkness. Vaguely concerned, I asked Fili where Bilbo, Thorin and Balin were. Through the haze of my tired brain, I heard something about "gone off with Elrond" and I wondered what they were doing - hopefully not beheading the elven lord, as that would be incredibly rude.

The laughter, singing and talking still didn't stop. Unbelievably comfortable, I decided it couldn't hurt to doze, trusting that the dwarves wouldn't murder me in my sleep. Maybe I'd return to my room later.

The problem? I seemed to have underestimated how tired I was - I hadn't been expecting or intending to fall straight to sleep, but my body had other ideas. Ever since Star had thought it would be a good idea to buck me off her _stupid_ rump, I had barely slept, and that had been _three_ days ago. Even elves need rest sometimes. As a result, I closed my eyes and was out of it in two seconds flat.

* * *

><p>Someone was shaking my shoulder; a familiar voice repeated my name. As I gradually regained consciousness, annoyance blasting me in waves (<em>who dares disturb my slumber?<em>) the shaking increased. "Shadow! She isn't dead, is she?"

Fili's concerned inquiry prompted a slight snort of amusement, and my eyes snapped open to meet the blue eyes of said dwarf. "You disappointed?" I asked groggily, struggling to sit up. Kili, somewhere nearby, stifled a laugh under the successful pretence of a polite cough.

"Are you always this hard to wake?" Fili asked in barely-concealed exasperation, shaking his head and making his braided moustache bounce in a comical fashion.

"Not usually," I admitted, clambering clumsily to my feet and stretching each limb. Then I realised it was still probably about an hour before dawn, and already the dwarves were awake and packing up their belongings. "What's going on?"

"Uncle Thorin doesn't want us to stay with the elves any longer than necessary," Kili explained, shouldering his pack. "We're leaving." _Seriously_, it's as if every elf is Azog the Defiler in his eyes. We aren't that bad, Thorin, I swear!

I laughed anyway. "I'm coming, whether he likes it or not," I decided, lifting my pack and swinging it over my shoulders. At my statement, the dwarf brothers both turned to stare at me, and I wondered what I'd done wrong. Did they, perhaps, disapprove? The thought hurt slightly.

"Of course you're coming!" Kili exclaimed, while Fili nodded in earnest agreement. "Mahal forbid, you're a friend of ours. We wouldn't leave you behind."

I smiled in genuine gratitude. "I am? I-I mean... thanks," I managed, and I meant it. Usually, as this time in the morning, I would be out of my room and exiting the elven halls, running off into the forest of Mirkwood to avoid all the perfect _tall_ elves who for some reason liked to amuse themselves by teasing me. I interacted with others as little as possible - even my father and brother, Legolas, barely saw me during the day. As a result, I had become somewhat socially awkward, and had developed a tendency to sit alone and daydream about epic adventures – though I never dreamed I'd one day be caught up in a quest to trek halfway across Middle-Earth in order to kill a dragon. Not least with a group of _dwarves._ Dwarves! Ha! My father would have a fit if he could see me now. I silently thanked my bulliers back home who, through their relentless taunts, had driven me out into the world, where I'd made two actual friends and _finally_ started my life.

In my sudden delight at that revelation, I had to almost physically restrain myself from throwing myself at the Oakenshield boys and hugging them one by one. Around me, the rest of the dwarves were already standing and looking very ready. I noticed Thorin frown in my direction, but before I could react, he clenched his teeth, shot me one last resentful glare and proceeded to act as if I didn't exist.

Looks like Gandalf won that argument.

With my spirits considerably lifted, I tagged along at the back as the dwarves – and hobbit; he must have returned while I was asleep – strode out of Rivendell with one King under the Mountain majestically leading the way.

* * *

><p><strong>Hellfire, I'm <em>useless<em> at writing conversations. =/ I hope everyone was in character...**

**So, any thoughts?**

**-Treebutton**


	3. Shadow, the Clumsiest Elf in Existance

**Um... I just wanted to say that the reason I started this was because I had this huge fangirl crush on the character of Kili (I intended this to be a Kili/OC romance of sorts, but now I'm not so sure - partially because I have never written romance, nor do I know how; partially because my mother is reading this and she would disapprove greatly). I am now over said crush, which basically means I have less motivation, which _basically_ means less frequent updates. However, I am _taking this story through to the end_ - it's still taking up space in my head. XD**

**DISCLAIMER: The book is better. I did not write the book.**

* * *

><p>We walked. And walked. And <em>walked<em>. On the way, I had it explained to me - again - that we were headed for the mountain of Erebor, and that the dwarves somehow intended to kill Smaug – the nature of this assassination still remained a mystery to me, prompting me to raise my eyebrows and politely asked how they proposed to do this (a question I'd been wanted very much to ask since Rivendell), and my only answer had been something along the lines of "we'll find a way". Or sometimes, "Gandalf has thought up something, I'm sure".

How... very discouraging.

I spent most of my time walking with Fili and Kili, with whom I was quickly becoming fast friends, although on occasion I did break off to converse with others such as Bilbo, Ori and Balin - by far my favourite members of the Company, excluding the Oakenshield brothers of course, because the three of them were so incredibly friendly that I just couldn't help taking an immediate liking to them.

I spent hours asking Bilbo multiple questions about his home, lifestyle and family, because really, hobbits _are_ rather wonderful creatures and I was eager to learn more about them. Turned out his uneventful life had been rudely interrupted by the quest, and he often really wished he'd stayed at home. I, in turn, told him of my rather miserable less-than-royalty-like existence in Mirkwood, in a home that was infested with parasites (a.k.a. those stupid _tall_ elves who were too immature to leave me alone). The comment about parasites made him laugh for some reason, but he declined to explain what the joke was.

Balin taught me a good deal more of Sir Thorin Scowlface, though the more I heard about him, the more inappropriate my new nickname for him seemed. Several times, I almost felt sorry for him - then remembered the way he glared at me, and decided he would need a better sob story before I actually pitied the dwarf.

Ori was a sweetheart. I found out that he particularly enjoyed books, and though I wasn't a huge fan of them myself, I deigned to discuss them with him. Drawing was another hobby of his, which I appreciated (he was revealed to be a very good artist, judging by the sketches in his ever-present notebook) but did not share. However, the two of us both, it appeared, had a big imagination and I shared with him the wild dreams I'd thought up in the past but had always previously kept to myself - and Ori, sweet as he was, listened with interest and occasionally made comment on the nature of my fantasies. Once he even offered to draw a scene from one of my particularly frequent daydreams, to which I had enthusiastically agreed.

When I wasn't avoiding Thorin, chatting to Bilbo, Balin or Ori, or exchanging conversation and jokes with Kili and often Fili, I was admiring the scenery. Yes, I'd already seen – heck, I'd already crossed – the Misty Mountains, but it was still an almost jaw-dropping scene. I couldn't help gawking at the soaring, snow-capped peaks as smooth as an ocean devoid of wave or ripple. It was as if I was balancing on the rim of a painting, wobbling on the brink of a slender bridge separating fantastic legend from reality.

And still we travelled for days and nights, passing rivers and cascading waterfalls, cresting hills like humpbacked kings long-forgotten, descending into shadowy vales as the mountains drew slowly nearer. Soon we we hiking over rougher, rockier terrain, and a few times as I looked back, something sent shivers through my spine and struck each cell of my body with a resonating note. I could almost hear the ancient song that echoed silently within the brave, immortal mountains that stood guard over Middle-Earth.

Our journey carried us at last to a narrow path atop a mountain, snow tumbling down its sides like foam born from a wave crashing against a cliff face. On the mountains themselves, the air was clearer but _cold_, and I muttered a substantial stream of curses as I chastised my idiocy. "_Stupid_ elf... should have brought a cloak... why didn't I think of that? Incompetent... witless..." my muttering petered out into indecipherable grumbling.. This earned me a few odd glances from the dwarves, who evidently believed that talking to oneself was a sure sign of madness, but I didn't care what they thought about me. I cared about being less cold than I was at this present moment, and the desire to be warm sufficiently drowned out all other concerns.

* * *

><p>Lightning fractured the sky and blasted the air with brief flashes that illuminated everything in a jagged white light, with sharp charcoal shadows edging every object. I love rain – I love listening to the drops as they bounce from leaf to leaf, all the way to Mirkwood's forest floor. I love hearing it outside my room at night. But getting caught in a thunderstorm right on top of the Misty Mountains? That was really pushing it.<p>

Soon, the entire company was soaked and constantly blinking away the after-effects of the blinding lightning. It didn't help that we were wobbling along a precarious ledge that was our only passageway through the mountains. I'd crossed it before – but _that_ had been in broad daylight. Granted, getting the horse over had been difficult, but at least I hadn't been in immediate danger of slipping on wet rock, or misplacing a step because of rain in my eyes, or blasted by lightning. Doing so in the dark, with the ledge becoming ever more slippery due to the rain, proved to be a totally different story, and a very bad idea.

"We must find shelter!" Thorin shouted, up ahead. I rolled my eyes. _Only just worked that out, have you?_ I thought sarcastically, though the most sensible - and desperate - part of my brain was in complete agreement. Then Bilbo made a squawking sound behind me as he slipped and almost toppled over the side.

My heart stopped, and I might have frantically screamed his name, but before I could reach out and grab him, Dwalin caught hold of the hobbit and managed to press him back against the wall again, where Bilbo stood shivering and gasping in relief. Thank _goodness_ for that.

Then someone yelled, "look out!" and we all stared upwards to unfortunately behold a very large rock that looked like half a mountain slam into the cliff above us. Chunks of stone as large as Thorin's nigh-on hatred of elves (which is to say, quite massive) rained down around – and on – us. Then Balin cried, "this is no thunder storm!" _Say what, now, Balin?_ "It's a thunder _battle_!" He pointed to where a stone _thing_ detached itself from the mountain.

Elbereth and Ilúvatar! It was just as tall and the mountain itself. Its limbs were crudely fashioned, and it had no face, but the (_enormous_) stone giant seemed to possess some kind of sight, because it ripped off that top of the nearest mountain. Ripped. Off. The. Top. Of. A. _Mountain_. I did not trust this giant, not in the _slightest_.

And then it threw said chunk of mountain at Stone Giant #2, who was lumbering into view. Of course there had to be another one. Of course. The more the merrier, huh?

"Well, bless me!" Bofur gasped in awe. "The legends are true! Giants – stone giants!"

"You don't say!" I yelled back, pressing myself against the rockface and trying to pretend I didn't exist (as though that would shield me from the giants). The boulder thrown by Stone Giant #1 whacked Stone Giant #2 right in what might have been its face if said face existed. Stone Giant #2 stumbled back in super slooooowww moooootioooooooon (or was it just my fear-addled brain?), half its head detaching itself from the rest of the body under the impact of the rock thrown by Stone Giant #1; subsequently, aforementioned boulder and half of Stone Giant #2's (maybe SG2 for short?) face shattered as the two free-fell into the abyss below.

One down...

SG3 strode forwards to join the fight. How wonderful – more for the rock-throwing party! One of the giants threw another rock at us, which shattered against the cliff overhead. Debris once again bombarded us as we hugged the walls so tightly I was sure that if I got any nearer to the rock I would become _part_ of it.

Chunks of the ledge kept snapping off. I'd never been too frightened of heights, but now I was beginning to seriously worry for my safety. A stray stone only the size of my hand came hurtling towards me at high velocity; before I could duck, it whizzed past my face and struck the wall with a painfully sharp crack beside my ear, snapping in half and harmlessly thudding to the ledge at my feet. I hesitantly touched my cheek – couldn't tell if the wetness I felt was blood or rain. Maneuvering that hand into view, I stared dumbly, as though I had forgotten how to react to injury, at the dark liquid staining my skin and dripping forlornly from my fingers.

A cracking sound preceded a jolt, and I forgot the apparent facial harm as, to my horror, the rock began moving under me. A fracture line widened in the stone right between my feet, and I watched the chasm grow, at a very startling speed, in motionless shock. _How delightful!_ my brain very unhelpfully chipped in, as I stood with one foot on either side of the widening crack, unable to move. _So Shadow the elf dies, frozen in horror and stupidly staring at her feet, as she plunges to her death. What more could she want?_

Someone grabbed me around the middle from behind and yanked me back as the two sides of the split cliff separated completely. Regaining control of my voice and limbs, I cried, "what's happening?"

As I tried to make sense of the situation, I realised that Kili was on the opposite side of the newly created ravine, an expression of fear and slight desperation upon his face. Oh, Valinor save us... the group had been separated. The dwarf who was currently clinging to my waist tightly yelled, "Kili!". Fili's voice, strained with panic. I, who was the closest to the edge, instinctively reached out, but the two cliffs were already too far apart and Kili couldn't have reached my hand if he'd tried. I caught a second glimpse of his horrified expression by the illumination of another bolt of lightning just before his cliff swung out of earshot.

Through my panic-fogged vision, I glanced upwards and gaped in shock. The giant was just as huge as the others, and it took a moment – one long, terrified moment – to comprehend it. As we were obviously so lucky, it turned out both halves of the company were standing on each of its massive knees. And our giant, completely unaware of its (very) reluctant passengers, had unfortunately decided it wanted to join the rock fight.

As we hurtled through the air, raindrops stinging our skin and ripping through our clothes, I drew a shuddering breath and released it in something I have never before, in all my years of life, let out of my mouth – one long, high-pitched scream. _Why_ had I agreed to come?! WE WERE ALL GOING TO DIE!

Fili's grip on me tightened (which - _ow_), and he yelled something like, "hold on!" although it was hard to hear anything much over my screams and the wind, which roared in my ears like a savage creature. The world went blurry around me.

"I _AM_ HOLDING ON!" I shrieked, the pitch of my voice rising steadily higher until I sounded like a bat. I clung to the giant's leg, squealed like a little girl and squeezed my eyes shut.

Warning: this ride is _not_ suitable for young children.

The rock lurched beneath my unsteady feet, causing me to yelp and then gulp down a nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach - this effectively eliminated my screams, something I'm fairly certain Fili would be grateful for. Then the movement of the rock beneath us changed slightly. After a moment's hesitation, I cracked open opened an eye – and immediately wished I hadn't. Our giant was _falling_, which basically meant we were hurtling straight into the solid wall of a mountain.

It happened too fast – a crashing sound; the scraping of wet rocks against my skin; the sudden stillness that followed. I didn't dare open my eyes, but I was pretty sure we weren't still on the Stone Giant. I felt no pain, only a deep coldness. My head spun. _Am I dead?_

"Shadow! Are you all right?" A hand grabbed my shoulder and I yelped. Someone breathed a sigh of relief above me. I flipped over onto my back and opened my eyes, wiping the rain off my face with the back of my hand.

We were back on the path that wound its way across the mountain. The rain was still beating me with tiny fists of ice, and I was now too cold and wet to feel my limbs. Then two familiar faces, both tight with concern, slid into view in a rather comical fashion.

"Hello," I mumbled groggily, trying to smile at my friends. "Lovely day."

"You were lying face down, and you didn't respond at first - by Mahal, we thought you were dead!" Kili shook his head in notable relief.

"You don't sound disappointed," I noted, getting to my feet. Fili laughed wearily and gave me a friendly punch across the shoulder. The fabric in that area was ripped almost completely apart; as his hand came into contact with my skin, his eyes widened slightly in alarm.

"Shadow - you're ice cold," he informed me uncertainly, eyebrows knitted. Kili furrowed his eyebrows identically in concern and took one of my hands. His own were really warm. As he realised just how cold I was, he opened his mouth to say something when one of the dwarves cried, "where's Bilbo?"

"_What_?" I yelped. Shaking Kili off hurriedly, I frantically searched the group of dwarves for our burglar when my eyes fell on a pair of hands just barely clinging to the side of the ledge. Horrified, I shoved Bofur (who was looking the wrong way) aside and ran to kneel by the edge. I reached out a hand to a traumatized-looking Bilbo, who was dangling over the huge chasm.

Unfortunately for me, I wasn't the most graceful elf around, and panic-induced clumsiness was a noticeable - and annoying - trait of mine. Before the poor hobbit even had the chance to try and grasp my hand, I overbalanced and, with a shriek of surprise, tumbled over the edge and fell.

There was an outcrop. Thank _Valinor_. It was only half a metre or so below the ledge, and my hands, already scraped from scrabbling at the rocks, caught it. _Great._ I'd probably just caused a whole lot more trouble for the Company. It was now Bilbo who was reaching for me, but I refused his help because he was clinging by one hand only, and my added weight would mean both our deaths. I glanced down and gulped, glimpsing jagged rocks far, _far_ below.

"Brilliant. Amazing. Wonderful," I complained under my breath, along with a steady stream of elvish profanities that would have made Father scold me eternally.

Above me, the dwarves were dragging Bilbo to safety. But as for me... well, if I ever met the Goddess of Luck, I would punch her in the face, for I was still very much in great peril and as yet unrescued.

Someone _finally_ extended his hand to help me, and after some grunting and much scrabbling, I managed to grab it. The dwarf, whoever it was, hauled me up, and I was back on the safety of the ledge.

I realised it was Bofur who'd saved me, and thanked him profusely. "I really appreciate it," I added, before hesitating, then saying, "I probably wasn't worth saving, though. I know there are some dwarves... Thorin... who don't like me anyway, and I've probably been nothing but trouble for you since I decided to tag along. I'm not needed or..." I trailed off (a good thing, too; this was another self-deprecating rant that needed to be eradicated), because Bofur was vigorously shaking his head, his silly hat flopping around.

"No, no, no!" he protested. "You're one of us, Shadow! Most of us are in fact glad to have you with us. Haven't you noticed? We're your friends, are we not?"

I cocked my head, thoroughly and justifiably confused. "What _exactly_ is so good about me? I was under the impression that a runty, socially awkward elf – me – wouldn't be of much help or interest to anyone, and certainly not to a group of _dwarves_..."

Bofur chuckled with as little enthusiasm as was expected when stuck on a ledge halfway up a mountain in the middle of a rainstorm. I was actually surprised it was possible to laugh at all, given our current miserable predicament. Why were we having such a conversation here of all places, again?

"Shadow, you massively underestimate yourself," he insisted. "Many of us find you very kind and funny, if a bit on the nosy side." I laughed at that, pleasantly surprised to find that at I was not in fact universally despised by the entire Company. Then I thought back, and suddenly wondered why I'd even thought everyone hated me.

Must be some kind of aftereffect from Mirkwood, I reasoned.

"Shadow?" Bofur's voice broke through my ponderings. "I meant no offense -"

I shook my head hastily, realising that my unintentional silence must have lead the dwarf to believe that I was angry, upset or otherwise negatively emotional. "I'm sorry... I was distracted for a second. Don't worry about me."

"A dreamer?" Bofur suggested, glancing swiftly at the others (who on were still either crowded round Bilbo or, in Thorin's case, scolding Bilbo. I made a mental note to defend the poor hobbit as soon as possible).

"It isn't a bad thing," I countered defensively, not quite understanding his tone of voice and so automatically interpreting it as disapproving of sorts. If in doubt, I had learnt, assume that they do not mean well.

Bofur cracked a smile and swatted me gently over the head (which he could, irritatingly, reach with ridiculous ease; I was barely taller than the dwarf). "I meant no such thing," he assured me.

Oh. That left me feeling rather foolish. I chose to simply frown and wave my arms dramatically like a mentally deficient bird. I considered causing him playful harm in retaliation, and probably would have punched him or something if Fili and Kili had not intervened.

Footsteps sounded nearby, and up ran said Fili and Kili with identically expressions that were equal parts relieved and angry - the kind of anger that usually accompanies relief, once one gets over the immediate joy of safety and begins to feel irritated at the person who put themself in danger.

"You two," Fili began, pushing Bofur and me apart. "I'm glad you've bonded and all that, but we have several words to say that we believe Shadow would benefit from hearing." Fili turned towards me, and I was wondering exactly what was coming next.

I wasn't surprised when he started scolding me. It wasn't a proper telling-off; simply an informal semi-rant that I wasn't sure he entirely meant. I stood there nodding my head in vague and amused agreement as we went on about how my actions had been alarming source of concern for him and his brother, and how I should learn not to throw myself off cliffs (because of course I'd been planning to fall to my death all along). Well, at least I knew they seemed to care about me, which was a welcome first. I almost smiled.

After he'd run out of energy, he finally calmed down and, as opposed to the totally expected telling-off, he gave me a very unexpected hug. Another first; I remember very few times I've been hugged, and never by anyone outside my family, though I suppose Fili was almost enough like a brother to call family anyway.

Then he let go and Kili offered me his own hug, which I returned gladly. When he released me, he proclaimed that I was still no warmer, and gave me his cloak, a gesture I found really sweet. I thanked him, wondering if it was out of politeness or genuine friendliness, and decided that this storm had definitely done something to bring the Company closer together. The only exception, I supposed, was Thorin.

Up ahead, said Thorin along with his dwarven troop had found a cave (thank goodness; I was getting a little wet...), so Fili and Kili herded me along with them to – hopefully - shelter, warmth, safety and rest.

Hopefully.

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><p><strong>So... please review and tell me what you think? <strong>

**-Treebutton**


	4. Low and High Spirits

**This is a short chapter, because I'm lazy, and because it is. Anyway, no one's reviewed it yet... so no one cares... right? *Stares reproachfully at readers***

**DISCLAIMER: The Hobbit does not belong to me, read the book if you haven't already, blah blah blah.**

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><p>He sighed. "It's nothing... Thorin doesn't like me. He practically told the whole Company that I don't belong."<p>

I raised an eyebrow, flashing Thorin a surreptitious glare out of the corner of my brown eye(s). "Did he now?" I asked, making no attempt to hide my disapproval. "He doesn't much like me either, so don't feel bad. He only let me come along because his nephews talked him into it-"

"That's the thing!" Bilbo turned his eyes on me hopelessly. "You have friends. Fili and Kili will speak for you. But as for me... I _don't_ belong."

I shrugged and wrapped my arms around myself in a rather futile attempt to warm myself. "I really don't know why they actually like me. After all, I'm just a short elf. A clumsy, rather antisocial, awkward-"

Bilbo elbowed me in the ribs – which hurt. "Stop listing all your bad qualities!" he scolded. "They make you unique, not dislikeable. And I know for a fact that Fili and Kili liked you in the first place because you're pretty."

Do they really think that? It made me feel warm. Then I realised that it was because I was blushing again, and that Bilbo seemed to enjoy the colour my face was turning. "_Stop_ laughing, you diminutive being!" I complained, though I was trying not to join in with his chuckle.

"Diminutive being?" he gasped. "You're shorter than half the dwarves yourself!"

Which wasn't true. Only Thorin and Dwalin were taller than I was, and Kili was roughly my height.

At any rate, I shoved him. Hard.

Bilbo fell over and thudded on the cold, hard stone floor of the cave. The dull sound rebounded off the walls and created lingering echoes that somehow reminded me of a wounded creature left in the wilderness to suffer a slow, lonely death. Er... you know what? Never mind.

"Sorry, Bilbo," I relented, though attempting to stifle my giggles. I bent over him, my long wet hair swinging down either side of my hopefully-no-longer-bright-red face, and reached out with one hand to help the hobbit up. He glowered at me for a second, then relaxed his features to assume his usual pleasant expression. He didn't seem to be able to maintain an angry demeanour. Accepting my hand, he hauled himself upright and began brushing himself off while I fiercely wrung out Kili's cloak and used it as a towel to dry off my face. However, I was alarmed to find a fair amount of blood and the cloak as I did so. I'd forgotten about my injury, but it didn't seem deep, and I was so numb from the cold that the pain was no more than a dull throb, so I decided to leave it.

Fili and Kili sat together, talking while they very unsuccessfully attempted to dry their clothes. I walked over to join them, shivering. Seating myself between them as I'd done in Rivendell, I greeted them with a smile. Fili returned it brightly, but Kili stared at the gash on my face and traced the cut with one finger, causing me to flinch and mutter something along the lines of, "cut it out, man!".

"Sorry," he said quickly. "How did it happen?"

"Rock," I said simply, shrugging. The shrug turned into a shiver, and Fili slung an arm over my shoulders, and I instantly felt warmer. I was very aware that Kili wasn't looking anything close to pleased about my, er, positioning, but it wasn't my fault, and did he seriously want me to get hypothermia over having some physical contact with his brother? I chose to ingore him. Anyway, they were both like siblings to me, which meant it didn't matter, did it? Oh – never mind.

To break the increasingly awkward silence, I asked Kili if he had any friends wherever he grew up. This, to my relief, wiped the very Thorin-like scowl off his face as he thought about my question.

"There weren't actually many dwarf children where I grew up," he told me with a thoughtful expression. "I had maybe two or three friends. We would practice using weapons when we were young, and sometimes we'd gang up to prank the adults. But most of the time it's just been the two of us, Fili and I."

Fili interrupted at this point. Chuckling, he said, "my brother has always been rather _popular_ among the females of our village."

At this, Kili's scowl returned full force, and a blush crept onto his cheeks. I'd never seen him go red before, and the experience was vastly entertaining as he reached round me and tried to swat his brother. Fili used me as a personal shield (I didn't appreciate this at all) while I ignored this indignity and choked with laughter. As Kili's face was still flushed, and steam was pouring out his ears (ok, maybe that was a slight exaggeration), I decided to take the opportunity to attempt to shove him out into the rain.

"Cool off, Kili!" I yelled, trying to control my laughter. Fili was still hiding behind me, his hands on my shoulders, and I staggered as he dragged me around with him. Eventually I launched myself at Kili and tackled him. The two of us crashed to the ground and Fili jumped on top. He was a lot heavier than me, and Kili, crushed beneath the two of us, yelped.

We were still on the floor of the cave, laughing and wrestling (not to mention being very creative with insults) when Thorin, in all his stern, kingly disapproval, strode over to glare at us. Well, at me in particular.

Typical.

"Get up, all of you," he ordered in his authoritative voice. "Do not behave like children; it is beneath you. Fili, Kili, I expected less immature behaviour."

"We were just playing!" I protested, trying not to quail under his angry glare. "Everyone has a right to enjoy themselves, especially in circumstances like these." The whole time I spoke, I did my best to ignore the brothers, who were both wearing, "Shadow, please shut up" expressions.

Thorin stared coldly at me. I was becoming more and more certain he was about to chuck me out into the rain and tie me to a rock or something, but instead he simply said, "now is not an appropriate moment to play." Turning to the rest of the Company, he announced, "we will rest for the night."

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><p>Of course, I didn't get a wink of sleep – well, that may have been because I'd volunteered to take watch in Bofur's place. But still.<p>

I sat there, listening to the _impossibly_ loud snores of the sleeping dwarves, and did some random general thinking about the Durins. Of course I knew why Thorin held such low regard for me and my race, but it didn't mean I had to like it. I wanted to show him that not all elves are bad, and that the unfortunate actions of my father did not mean he represented the entire elvish community. Sitting there by myself in the darkness, my mind wandered off to delve in ideas that could earn Thorin's approval and respect – each idea more elaborate than the last, and all unlikely or even impossible to achieve.

A dozy feeling descended upon me. _Stay awake._ The snoring that surrounded me was like a drifting cobweb of light as I struggled to keep my eyes open. Every garment I wore was drenched and icy, and my limbs felt like dead blocks of wood. This probably should have worried me, but I was unable to move in the way I wanted to, and decided that if I was still alive tomorrow morning I would sort myself out. Besides, I'd been through worse.

Then, through my semi-conscious state, I heard footsteps, Near-silent and placed with care, as though whoever was making them was trying to leave the cave without making themselves known. No dwarf could ever be this stealthy, and not orcs either. That left only one possibility, and I smiled.

"Hey, Bilbo," I called softly without opening my eyes. The furtive footsteps abruptly stopped. "Where do you think you're going? If you want a bath, I'm sure there's enough rain, but – in case you've forgotten – there are a few of our Stone Giant friends chucking rocks out there. I would hate it if you were accidentally squished."

My eyes opened to meet the surprised ones of Bilbo. "Do you still have that depressing, misguided idea that you don't belong with us? Not all of us hate you, Bilbo. Take me, for example. I like calling myself your friend."

The stupid hobbit shook his head. "I'm going back to Rivendell," he told me bluntly. He met my gaze defiantly, daring me to challenge this announcement. I had never been a good participant at the Debating Club for Young Elves (well, if there was one, that is) and I could tell I wasn't going to win this argument.

With a reluctant sigh, I got stiffly to my feet (this was a struggle, since I was still numb all over) and approached Bilbo. "Then I wish you the best of luck," I said in a voice barely louder than a whisper, touching his shoulder gently. After a hesitation, I gave him a heartfelt hug. The hobbit uncertainly patted me on the back as if he'd never been hugged before, and I really wasn't any better. There was an awkward pause, then I released him and ruffled his hair.

Awkward silence.

Then Bilbo cleared his throat and smiled humourlessly, poking me on the shoulder in a half-hearted gesture. I returned the poke and didn't argue as he said, "well, I'll see you around, Shadow."

As he turned to go, however, something shiny and blue caught my eye.

"What's... that?" I asked. Bilbo glanced over his shoulder at me, then followed my gaze to his sheathed weapon. When he half-drew it, the two of us stared in horror at the glowing blue blade.

"_Orcs!_" I hissed, taking a step back and glancing wildly around me. Whipping my own sword from its sheath, I turned and sprinted in the direction of the sleeping, snoring dwarves, and yelled, "WAKE UP!"

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><p><strong>I haven't written the next chapter yet, so it might be a little longer than usual before I next update. Usually I write my chapters in a random diary and type it up (as well as edit it) on a Word Document, and <em>then<em> copy it onto Fanfiction and post it. So yeah.**

**-Treebutton**


	5. I Maim Someone Ugly

**AngelMousyMouse - aw, thank you! I'm glad to hear you liked it!**

**norma - thanks for the observations you made... I hadn't thought of that. I don't really think when I'm writing. Slight changes have been made in accordance. =)**

**My mum's reading this fanfiction. 0_0 This is _awkward _(she printed it out... and was laughing hysterically whilst reading it last night...)**

**DISCLAIMER: Once again, I DO NOT OWN THE PLOT OR THE CHARACTERS OF THE HOBBIT. I think you guys kind of get the idea by now.**

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><p>Thorin immediately leapt to his feet before anyone else had even stirred. I had a nasty suspicion he'd been awake all along, listening to my conversation with Bilbo. He repeated my order (which <em>I<em> had issued first, thank you very much) and drew his own sword. I leapt over a large crack in the cave floor - wait, a crack? In the floor? That could _not_ be good. Skidding to a halt, I spun round and raced back to examine it. As I did so, the stone gave completely. This meant that Bilbo, Thorin, the only-just-waking-up dwarves and I were unceremoniously plunged into a large pit.

The pit turned into a very long, very steep and very dangerous slide. It twisted at horrible angles and had random drops that we free-fell down. Warning: definitely not suitable for young children.

I bumped into way too many objects - be it rocks, random belongings or dwarves - to count, earning myself numerous bruises. It wasn't the most pleasant experience, although it was certainly useful if I wanted to familiarise myself with each dwarf's screams (and for your information, no, I didn't).

At last, we shot out of the chute and landed in a heap at the end of the slide, onto a kind of... cage thing? What? Before I could shake off my dizziness, a very out-of-tune chorus of growls and shrieks assailed my ears, and something - or several somethings - grabbed me.

I kicked out blindly. Two pairs of hands released me, but others still clutched at my arms and clothes. Twisting violently, I managed to free myself from most of my captors, jammed my elbow in the stomach of another and kicked the last one right where it _mattered_. It screeched in an immensely satisfying way and fell over trying to get away from me. Only then did I get a good look at them and realised that they were my least favourite race - goblins.

More snatched me. I tried to fight them off, but there were way too many to defeat, even if I could reach my sword. The dwarves and I were dragged and shoved and prodded and hauled along a path high in the air, despite our various protestations, and I gasped as I stared around me.

We were _not_ high in the air. We were _underground_. Ladders, tunnels, platforms and bridges connected to form a massive city. One that was inhabited entirely by goblins. Everywhere I looked, the foul creatures swarmed like maggots over the wooden structures and walls of roughly cut stone. For a moment, my brain found the Land of Really Depressing Thoughts, and discovered random hopeless ideas like "oh no we're never going to escape there are far too many of them" and "OH FLIP is this how we're going to die?" and the simple "NONONONONONONONONOOOOOOOOOOO."

To try and drag my mind out of the realm in which unhelpful thoughts came from, I concentrated on simply keeping my footing as the goblins dragged us along. The deafening noises they were making, along with our completely unnecessary capture, built up a wall of anger and disgust inside me, though I contained it - at least for the time being. N_ot yet._ Survive first, kick random walls later.

At last we halted. I glanced up from the wooden boards beneath my feet - only to behold a rather ugly face. Small, cunning eyes. Warty skin. A few strands of hair on his lumpy head. And - was that supposed to be his chin?! I hastily averted my eyes from the unpleasant sight of the large, wobbly slab of flesh dangling from the bottom of the really big goblin's face, trying to think of something else. Unfortuantely, my mind still seemed to be rather lost in pessimistic thoughts, and all I could think of was something along the lines of "OH NO WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE".

The massive goblin, who I assumed was the king or something, smiled. It didn't make him look any prettier; on the contrary, I could now see his alternately yellow and black crooked teeth.

"Who would be so bold as to enter my kingdom?" he demanded, leaning forwards with a horrific-looking leer. "Spies? Thieves? Assassins?"

"Dwarves, your malevolence!" one of his minions explained. "And a small elf." He prodded me in the back with a knife as he said it. Ouch!

"_Dwarves_?" the king responded - sounding surprised, for some reason. I mean, my companions weren't exactly Oliphaunts, were they? Even the most stupid elf (and I've met a few) couldn't even pretend to be surprised when presented with a dwarf and then told it _was_ one.

"We found them on the front porch!" another goblin replied, turning briefly to leer at us.

The king appeared pleased. "Well, don't just stand there!" he bellowed at his subjects. Pointing at us, he ordered, "search them!"

My knife was immediately confiscated. So were my arrows. Then another goblin snatched my bow and snapped it.

No one snaps my bow. "What the hell do you have against a piece of wood?!" I yelled, kicking the offending goblin hard where it was guaranteed to hurt. The goblin screeched in pain and fell over.

Another of the nasty creatures clambered over its writhing body to search my pockets. Beside me, Oin's ear trumpet was tossed to the ground and trampled. Kili lost his sword, bow and quiver, while Fili's very numerous knives were, one by one, discovered and likewise discarded.

After a few minutes of scuffling, every dwarf - and elf - stood weaponless. As for Bilbo - _where the hell was Bilbo?!_ But before I could ask, the Goblin King started speaking again.

"What were you doing in these parts?" He leant forwards on his throne and stared at us expectantly. None of us said a word.

"Speak!" he commanded after a pause. His prompting had no effect on us, and we didn't reply.

At length, he said, "very well," then turned to the rest of the goblins. Raising his voice, he announced, "very well! If they will not talk, we'll make them _squawk_! Bring out the Mangler! Bring out the Bone Breaker!" He directed a lumpy finger at Ori, who was shivering beside me. "Start with the youngest!"

That did it. _No one_ threatened my friends. Especially not the king of the goblins. Dragging Ori behind me, I glared up at the Goblin King and called him more than a few names using profanities to be proud of.

"If you touch him, I will nail your fingers together and pin your fat face to the wall!" I growled, forgetting for a moment that he was over three times as tall as I was, and his back-up was maybe a little larger than mine. My fingers _itched_ to relieve his shoulders of the ugly head.

The Goblin King stared at me for a full ten seconds... and then burst into peals of unattractive laughter. I struggled to contain my indignation.

"Who cut off the elf's legs?" he hooted. What. What the-?! HE DID NOT JUST-! How _dare_-!

"Someone get her a box to stand on!" he ordered through his hysterical laughter. "Though beware, lest she leap up and punch you in the knee!" All the goblins were doubled over, laughing.

NO. FLIPPING. WAY. It was one thing to be insulted by other elves. But a _goblin_ making Short Jokes at my expense? NO. NOT ALLOWED. My internal dam broke.

**(A/N: We've got a dam problem! XD Tell me if you recognised the reference!)**

He and his goblins were so busy laughing that they didn't notice I'd equipped myself with the nearest sword until I was already taking a swing at his legs. See how _he_ likes being short! The Goblin King stared down at me in surprise as his left leg was decapitated.

Then he roared. Before I could remove his other leg, he swung his club and knocked me backwards, and I went flying into my friends. My borrowed sword was wrenched from my grasp. Kili caught me the shoulders and steadied me as I fell against him, and I regained my footing.

I had just registered the dwarves' expressions of approval - and, in some cases, awe - when a tide of goblins charged us. Well, specifically me.

Kili tried to defend me, but several goblins wrestled him to the ground, and I was shoved to my knees. All right, then. If they wanted to fight me, they'd _get_ a fight.

I dragged my left leg up until I was kneeling proposal-style, then launched myself up into a backflip on that leg. Said leg shot upwards of its own accord as I did so, and the goblin in front of me got a shoe in the face.

For one exciting minute, I felt like I was winning. I ducked a punch aimed at my chest and slammed my elbow into a goblin's stomach as it tried to grab me, then kneed another hard in the ribs. One clutched my leg, but I twisted and slammed into it, and down we both fell onto the wooden board with my shoulder in its face. While I was on the floor, more tried to take advantage and pile on top, so I handsprung away, landing neatly on my feet several metres from my attackers in the most unclumsy action I have ever attempted. Wow!

I was aware of my dwarvish friends staring at the struggle. None of them offered to help out, and it was this thought that distracted me as one goblin broke away from the others and charged me.

Said goblin (have I mentioned how much I _hate_ the little things?) grabbed my hair. I might have been able to dodge if I'd maintained my focus. Its friends swarmed me, gripping my limbs and clothes, and presented me to their king. I was again forced to my knees in an uncomfortable position, while the Goblin King - face twisted in pain and rage, which was a truly horrifying image - glared at me in hate. Gritting my teeth, I waited for my death sentence. Maybe I shouldn't have left home after all. Even the _Goblin King_ made fun of my height. I really hate goblins, and I glared right back at the king as he opened his mouth to speak.

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><p><strong>That was fun! I've never actually written a proper fight scene before. Maybe it could have been longer, but there will be more. Remember that bit near the end of the first film? Out of the frying pan and into the fire? Yeah.<strong>

**Yay for Shadow! I kind of got carried away... didn't mean to change it so much, but I honestly believed that the Goblin King would be better off without a leg. =) Plus, a bit of action never hurts!**

**Sorry the last two chapters were kind of short. I haven't been writing much recently.**

**I have kind of lost motivation. It happens. One moment I'm writing manically, then the next I say to myself, "what am I doing this _for_?" and decide to draw instead. I suspect I'm slightly ADHD (one sign I'm a demigod!) because I tend to switch interests easily. Anyway, onwards. *Cheers with as little enthusiasm as is physically possible***

**-Treebutton**


	6. SO MUCH RUNNING

meep15** - HAHAHAHA I'm Sauron! I'm evil! XD**

**AngelMousyMouse - Yay, short buddies! *High fives* And thank you! =)**

**Shadow: See? I'm hilarious!**

**Me: I _make_ you funny, Shad.**

**Shadow: That's beside the point!**

**DISCLAIMER: If I owned The Hobbit, the Goblin King would be missing a head.**

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><p>No doubt the Goblin King was about to say something along the lines of "REMOVE HER HEAD!" or "MINIONS, STEP ON HER!" when everyone unexpectedly did the flop.<p>

Not intentionally, of course. What happened was that a sudden blast of white light suddenly ripped through the cavern, blowing out torches, knocking down goblins, dwarves and elves alike. But even as I tumbled rather painfully onto the wooden boards, spots flashing before my eyes, a smile was fixed on my face.

_Gandalf._

And, sure enough, the silhouette of a tall man appeared at the edge of the platform, a black outline against the darkness. Striding forwards, staff aloft, he commanded, "take up arms."

Everyone began to stir, and I wriggled out from underneath the Goblin King's arm, which had flopped on top of me during the brief confusion our wizard had caused.

"Fight!" Gandalf prompted, drawing his sword. And as I leapt to my feet, we spoke in unison: "FIGHT!"

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><p>All Mordor broke loose. I dived at the weapon pile and grabbed my knife, then spun round and used to impale the goblin behind me like a marshmallow.<p>

**(A/N: Yes, they have marshmallows in Middle-Earth. Did you not know? XD)**

Stopping only long enough to sling my bow and quiver over my shoulders, I charged straight into the fray.

Weapons were being tossed, seemingly at random, through the air. I ducked as a sword went sailing over my head into the hand of Kili, who promptly stabbed one of the larger goblins. Soon everyone was armed and fighting - even Ori, who gripped a random axe with grim determination.

The Goblin King tried to attack Thorin. Turned out it didn't take much work to defeat a Goblin King, however small one might be in comparison, because when Thorin blocked his opponent's club strike, the king of goblins lost his balance and toppled over the side of the platform (hopefully to his doom).

Then Gandalf set off along one of the suspended wooden bridges. "This way!" he called - so apparently we weren't 'fools' any more - and off we went.

After that, it was mostly a blur. Running, tripping, turning a corner - THAT'S A GOBLIN STAB IT - more running, pushing enemies over the sides of the bridge - AHH DODGE THAT RANDOM SWORD! - and so on. As a large company of goblins charged from the opposite side of the bridge to intercept us, Kili and I - along with a couple of other dwarves - grabbed a ladder and trapped the gobins' heads between the rungs, pushing them backwards until we reached a gap in the floor. Our attackers fell through said gap, and we all ran across the ladder to the next bridge.

Apparently Balin was amazing with a stick. He whirled it expertly, whacking any goblin that got too close. Bombur seemed to be having trouble - several goblins were _riding_ him like a fat pony - so I hurried to help. The dwarf was soon relieved of his unwelcome hitchhikers.

In one area of the cavern, the ceiling hung low overhead. Gandalf performed some sort of interesting magic thing and took a chunk out of it to create a lovely new boulder weapon taller than the wizard was. The rock trundled along in front of us, squishing goblins conveniently, until it fell off the edge of the bridge. We turned a corner and hurried on.

Along a different bridge we ran, and the goblins were falling behind. I thought we were home free. Then - CRASH.

The Goblin King, in all his massive one-legged ugliness, burst randomly from the floor, leaving a large very-irritating-king-goblin-shaped hole in the wooden boards. Damn it - and we were doing so _well._

"You thought you escape _me_?" the Goblin King gloated. _Yes, in fact you just ruined everything._

He tried to hit Gandalf with his club - which he'd managed to keep hold of during his little fall - and Gandalf stumbled backwards into us. I bit my lip worriedly.

"What are you going to do now, wizard?" His Most Annoying Majestic Horror asked Gandalf with a leer. In answer, our wizard straightened with some effort (his is quite an old man, after all) and poked the Goblin King in the eye with his staff.

Good one.

The Goblin King squealed like a puppy and dropped to his knees - well, his _knee_, singular - and clapped one hand over his eye. While he was distracted, Gandalf stepped in and sliced his sword first through his enemy's belly, then across the goblin's neck.

Our opponent glared at Gandalf for three silent seconds. "That'll do it," he said, pretty calmly for someone who'd had his leg cut off, fallen from a great height, stabbed in the eye and slashed at with a sword. I almost felt sorry for him. Before any of us could respond to his simple statement, he fell forwards and crashed face-first into the floor, which unfortunately cracked under the hopefully dead Goblin King's weight.

It broke. The suspended bridge _broke._ This meant that we all _fell._

Thankfully, a narrowing of the stone chute beneath us slowed our fall. This, however, did not stop everyone from clinging to the side of the bridge and screaming pathetically as it toppled at jerky intervals. Finally, the chute opened up and we free-fell once more. Oin clutched his ear trumpet and bleated like a goat - until we crashed into the ground.

For a few moments there was silence, apart from the hiss of settling dust. Then Bofur, always the optimist, propped himself up on his elbows and commented, "well, that could have been worse."

I was about to make a sarcastic reply, but just then something large and immensely heavy fell on top of us, squashing everyone completely flat.

And guess what? It was one annoying dead Goblin King. Seriously? _Why couldn't he just leave us alone?!_

Dwalin made a choking sound. "You have _got_ to be joking," he grumbled, and I nodded in exasperated agreement.

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><p>It took several minutes to dig everyone out of the wreckage. Gandalf did a headcount as we all dusted ourselves off. Then Kili happened to glance up, and what he saw above him made his eyes widen. I turned to look at what he had noticed as Kili cried, "Gandalf!"<p>

Scrambling at top speed down the walls of the chute we'd fallen down was possibly the entire population of Goblin-Town, all _very_ angry, judging from their murderous expressions. This was getting ridiculous. All I'd ever wanted was to kill some goblins and leave - _was that too much to ask?_

"RUN!" Gandalf yelled. _Duh._ So every dwarf gathered their wits (or whatever form of wit they possess) and the Company once again set off at a run, pursued by an army of annoying goblins. I was getting rather tired of the running business by now.

The passageways seemed endless. Gandalf would often fall to the rear in order to count us before sprinting into the lead again. My legs ached, and I hurt all over from my very, _very_ numerous cuts and bruises. I could tell my companions were having similar problems, as a lot of pained expressions were plastered on the dwarves' faces.

I could hear the echoes of the goblins shrieking behind us, which was a good incentive to keep running - fast. By now I was going purely on adrenaline. None of us had eaten a proper meal since Rivendell, and my energy was rapidly decreasing, as anyone might expect.

Finally, we saw light at the end of the tunnel - literally. Yay! The sight of daylight, of course, prompted us to pour on the speed, and soon we emerged from the dark stone tunnels into a wooded slope that was lit up with light from the sun setting in the west. Woah, had we been in that nasty place for a whole _day? _Not a nice thought at all.

Stumbling downhill, we eventually reached a clearing. Gandalf slowed to a halt, then turned round to count us all once again. "...Fili, Kili... Bombur... and Shadow. That makes fourteen."

I doubled over, trying to make my lungs function properly. My friends all stood or sat, panting hard and looking weary but relieved. As I recovered, I slowly straightened and hobbled on wobbly legs over to Fili and Kili, giving both of them a hug. The brothers grinned at me and the three of us patted each other on the back.

"That wasn't fun," I commented once my breathing and heartbeat was restored to its normal rate, for once leaving out any sarcastic remarks I might have made under different circumstances. Fili and Kili both nodded in agreement, though they refrained from replying.

My legs unexpectedly gave way, and I flopped onto the ground. My two friends glanced down at me in mild surprise, then decided to join me and both sat down, facing me.

"Do you do this kind of thing a lot?" I asked them. They didn't seem as exhausted as I was; perhaps they had a lot of practice where they lived.

Fili shook his head. "Attacks in our homeland aren't frequent," he told me. "Although before we were born, I'm sure Uncle Thorin had similar problems, what with the dragon, and the orcs in Moria. The two of us and Ori are possibly the only dwarves in the Company who have never faced real danger like this before."

At that moment, Gandalf's raised voice called, "where is our hobbit?"

_What?!_ Oh, I'd forgotten about Bilbo! While the brothers stared frantically around (Fili squinted up into the trees while Kili searched the ground - _excuse me_, Bilbo is not that tall, nor is the size of an ant!), I ran up to Gandalf and explained how I'd noticed Bilbo's absence during our capture in Goblin-Town. The wizard's expression was grave as he listened without comment to my brief contribution.

Everyone began to argue. "I thought he was with Dori!" someone said.

"Don't blame me!" Dori protested.

"Well, where did you last see him?" Gandalf inquired.

Nori spoke up. "I think I saw him slip away when they first cornered us."

"Well, what happened?" Gandalf prompted. "Tell me!"

"I'll tell you what happened," Thorin's powerful voice said suddenly, cutting short the discussion. "Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it. He's thought of nothing but his soft bed and his warm hearth since first he stepped out of his door. We will not be seeing our hobbit again."

"Oh, _stop it_," I snapped in exasperation as Fili and Kili glanced at each other. "Bilbo is better than that. He wouldn't abandon us! I know you hate him, Thorin, but can't you see he truly is a good person? He's only lost in the tunnels, for Valinor's sake! And if he _has_ gone home, it's only out of disgust at the way you've treated him so far!"

Thorin shot me a death glare, which was actually pretty scary, but I stood my ground. "Whatever the reason for his absence," the dwarvern king stated in a low, hard tone, "he is long gone."

I was ready to either protest angrily or behead him when another voice joined in - a voice that triggered my 'YAY WE ARE ALL ALIVE LET'S HAVE A PARTY OR SOMETHING' mode.

"Nope. He isn't," Bilbo said, stepping out from behind a tree.

"_Bilbo_!" I squealed, tackling him in a massive hug. The hobbit patted me on the back in awkward jerky movements and mumbled something like, "I'm ok."

When I finally released him, I saw he was grinning - slightly embarrassedly, but smiling all the same. I whirled round to face Thorin with a triumphant expression. "HA!"

Thorin had the decency to appear defeated and as apologetic as a dwarf is able to look. He also declined from joining the Welcome Back ceremony everyone else was holding for Bilbo.

Gandalf's face lit up. "Bilbo Baggins!" he exclaimed in relief. "I have never been so glad to see anyone in my life!"

"Bilbo!" Kili said in delight and the hobbit patted Balin amiably on the back. "We'd given you up."

"How on earth did you get past the goblins?" Fili added.

"How indeed?" Dwalin asked softly.

Gandalf was still smiling, but his expression faltered for a moment. I followed his gaze and was just in time to notice Bilbo surreptitiously remove his hand from his pocket. Hm... could be interesting. I mentally stroked my imaginary beard.

"Well, what does it matter?" Gandalf regained his composure. "He's back!"

Exactly what I was thinking. No one could argue with that, now, could they?

"It matters," Thorin interjected suddenly, causing everyone to stare at him with faltering grins. Ugh, I _really_ don't like it when people (or dwarves, or elves, or goblins, or anyone really) crashes my positive thoughts.

"I want to know," Thorin continued, glaring at Bilbo. "Why did you come back?"

Bilbo stared at him for several seconds. "Look..." he started. "I know you doubt me, and I know... I know you always have. And you're right, I often think of Bag-End," he admitted with a shrug. "I miss my books. And my armchair, and my garden. See, that's where I belong. That's home. And... that's why I came back. Because... you don't have one. A home. It was taken from you." Bilbo paused. "And I will help you take it back if I can."

Thorin dropped his gaze, hopefully in shame at having misjudged Bilbo. Everyone was silent as they considered Bilbo's speech, and the hobbit shifted awkwardly. Gandalf nodded approvingly, and I grinned from ear to ear with pride.

And of course, that's when everything was ruined. A howl ripped through the silence. The all-too-familiar, all-too-persistent and _extremely_ annoying cry of wargs. Seriously, couldn't our enemies give us a five-minute break? _When were they ever going to leave us alone?!_ When this quest was over, if I was still alive, I was going to hunt down every single warg and goblin in existence and _murder_ them all.

Gandalf's expression of approval was replaced by an impassive mask. "Out of the frying pan..." he whispered.

"...and into the fire." Thorin finished, just as quietly, Raising his powerful voice, he commanded, "RUN!"

I hate that word.

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><p><strong>I'm going to be updating maybe once a week from now on.<strong>

**I don't know if I'll be able to continue this all the way through. I have an alternate plan if this is the case, but if you want me to carry on with the plot of the story, I'll see what I can do about it. =)**

**-Treebutton**


	7. Thorin EPICALLY fails

**Uh, sorry for the wait. I was busy.**

**That was the worst excuse I've ever come up with. *Sigh* anyway, here it is! I'm starting to enjoy writing the story now it's getting more interesting!**

**Also, I was writing this chapter, then I saved it, then SOMETHING HAPPENED and it disappeared. Just WHAT THE HELL, MAN?! I think life hates me.**

**THE BATTLE OF THE FIVE ARMIES COMS OUT REALLY SOON. 0_0 I'll probably miss it, though, because I'm going to be in Norway... and I cannot speak a word of Norwegian...**

**Yay! Mockingjay has come out! Though I don't think I'll be able to watch it any time soon, because I want to watch the second one before I see Mockingjay. I've read the books so I do know what happens, but I'm OCD like that. I have to do everything in order.**

**I'm starting the big two years of school. The two years with the massive exams. So I'll be even more busy with schoolwork.**

**I also probably need to learn to touch type, because I use three fingers and it's so slow, especially when I'm holding a small diary with one hand and trying to decipher my tiny handwriting at the same time.**

**Hope you all understand. =)**

**DISCLAIMER: Everything belongs to Tolkein except for Shadow. Actually, there are probably a lot of things he doesn't own...**

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><p>Wargs appeared on the ridge behind us, and I didn't hesitate or think, "hmm, should I stand here and shoot at them with arrows that are probably way too small and flimsy to kill them?" Nope - I bolted.<p>

It was a cowardly thing to do, I suppose, but after _days_ of being relentlessly chased by the orcs and wargs and goblins that wouldn't leave us alone, I was tired of hanging around trying to stand my ground. However, it was maybe ten seconds before I realised that my friends were no longer beside me. _What?!_ Digging my heels into the ground, I skidded; stumbled; then crashed straight into a randomly appearing tree.

Once I'd detached my face from the wood, I turned around to look for the dwarves, and - there they were, some way behind me. Apparently I ran quite a lot faster than them.

Unfortunately, so did the wargs, who were bounding down the slope and gaining quickly on my friends. Part of me, the part that was _so sick_ of being attacked about twice a day, tried to make me take off in the opposite direction and save myself; but the other - and much larger - part wanted me to go back and help the dwarves. After a brief hesitation, I nocked an arrow to my bow (I most likely wouldn't last very long in an up-close fight against a horde of orcs and wargs with just my knife), sprinted back the way I'd come and shot the nearest beast - who had just overtaken the rest of the Company - straight in the eye.

The warg, who was thankfully riderless, faltered with a pained howl, and Balin stepped in to finish it off while it was distracted.

"Into the trees! Quick! All of you!" Gandalf urged, already beginning to climb one. That would be easy, since we were pretty much in a forest.

"They're coming!" Thorin yelled, which was very obvious to me.

Grabbing the lowest branch of the nearest tree, I hauled myself swiftly into the branches, scraping my knees and shins on the rough bark, all previous exhaustion forgotten. Halfway up, I paused to glance down and assess the seriousness of the situation from my vantage point, where I had a lovely view of the wargs and orcs that were trying to kill us.

In the nearby trees, the dwarves were busy scrambling to safety. Gandalf had climbed the tallest one at the edge of the woods (or what I assumed to be the edge, since there were no more trees beyond Gandalf's). And Bilbo was - still _down there?!_

What the actual _hell,_ Bilbo?! What is it with you and getting left behind?

He was struggling to pull his sword out of a dead warg's skull, and I suppose he'd just killed it - this was all very good and everything, but my main concern was getting Bilbo to safety before he was eaten, or sliced to pieces, or stabbed, or trampled, or flattened by a randomly falling tree, or... well, you get the idea. At any rate, I figured it would take too long to climb back down the tree, so I took the much shorter route - I jumped.

Stupid? Maybe, but our enemies were almost upon Bilbo. As I landed, I instinctively tucked and rolled to absorb the impact. It still hurt. Leaping to my feet as soon as I could, I ran full-speed towards the hobbit.

Apparently he was traumatized, because he just stared, his back against a tree, while I hastily yanked his sword out of the warg's brain and tried to hand it to him. After maybe two seconds of staring dumbly at the weapon I was impatiently holding out for him to take, he reached out and grasped the hilt. I immediately gripped him by the arm (he didn't seem capable of moving by himself at the present time) and dragged him along with me as I sprinted back to the tree I'd been in and boosted the hobbit up into the branches.

While I was climbing after him, a warg ran up to my tree, jumped up and bit me (hard) on the leg. And yes, it hurt quite a lot. So of course I screamed and kicked it in the eye, and it growled and let go, and Bilbo reached down to pull me out of reach of our enemies.

Once I was high enough, I risked a glance at the leg that stupid warg had tried to eat. It was bleeding, so I decided not to try and find out how bad the wound was. Better not to think about it until I had time to worry about little things like getting injured. Besides, Bilbo was sitting beside me on the branch looking concerned, and it would only distract if I tried to tend it. Ignoring him for the moment, I took a moment to glance at the neighbouring trees in order to check that everyone was ok (which they thankfully were).

The wargs, half of which were ridden by orcs, circled the trees, eyeing us and growling - and my stomach growled along with them. _Food, _said my digestive system.

A commotion downstairs shook my out of an argument with my stomach, and I looked down. And there, on the ground, was the biggest, whitest, most one-armed orc I'd ever seen. His skin was oddly ridged and scored, as though he was wearing invisible armour (which could be a problem), and he sat on a fluffy white warg that would probably have looked cuddly if not for its fangs and... um... glowing red eyes? I didn't like the look of those eyes. Both orc and warg were glaring straight at Thorin.

Thorin glared right back. "Azog," he hissed in a tone of mixed hatred and disbelief.

So _this_ is Azog, huh? Oh, joy.

Aforementioned Azog grinned evilly at us, which thankfully looked less ugly than the Goblin King's leer (and believe me, he'd given me enough ugliness to last a whole elvish lifetime). Sniffing the air, the Pale Orc smiled again and said something to his little orcy minions in a different language; probably orcish or something. Glaring back up at Thorin once more, he growled something else, though I understood only two words - "Thorin" and "Thrain". Behold my excellency as a linguist.

"It cannot be," I heard Thorin breathe, almost to himself, and the dwarf king shook his head in disbelief. Balin, next to him, wore a deluxe "UH OH" expression. Every other dwarf, elf and hobbit was dead silent.

Azog pointed menacingly at Thorin and said something else, then swung his club over his head and roared one last command. I didn't need to speak orcish to have any doubt that he'd just ordered his orcs to kill us, especially since all the wargs (excluding his own) charged.

* * *

><p>We're in the trees. We're safe. Warg's can't clim. We'll be fine.<p>

They could _not_ climb, but, as it turned out, they could jump pretty high. Bilbo and I were forced to scramble higher up as the tree shook violently. All around us, the yells of the dwarves rent the air, and their cries were jumbled confusingly with the din the wargs were creating until I thought my head was going to explode.

Bilbo looked shell-shocked, staring in alarm at the wargs below us. I squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, though I was almost as scared as he seemed to be.

Then our tree began to... move? It turned out that the wargs had uprooted our tree - and we were falling! We were going to die! NONONONONONONON- and then we crashed into another tree. OH, THANK VALINOR!

"Jump!" I called to Bilbo, giving him a shove. The two of us launched ourselves from the toppling tree into the branches of the next, sharp pine needles scratching my face and lodging themselves in my clothes.

I landed just fine, but my momentum was a bit too large. I was just about to fall off the other side of the branch I was on, but someone caught me by the arm at the last minute and pulled me back from the drop to safety. Turning, I found myself face-to-face with a grim-face Fili and a grinning Kili - at least, he _was_ grinning until _this_ tree started to fall, too, All of us leapt to another, but there was no escaping the domino effect now it had begun.

The dwarves, Bilbo and I hopped from tree to tree as each collapsed in turn, until we finally arrived at Gandalf's tree, the dreaded tree at the very edge of the woods, where there were finally no more places to hide.

What I saw when I looked at what was beyond the tree nearly made me scream from sheer frustration. It was the edge of the woods, all right. A sheer drop plunged onto some rather sharp rocks _far_ below. Just our luck that we were stranded at the edge of a cliff.

Azog began to laugh, which made me want to create a new fist-sized dent in his face. The wargs circled the last tree, scrabbling at its roots. I gritted my teeth and tried not to jump out of the tree and spontaneously attack them.

Kili gripped the truck of the tree, breathing hard and glancing around him in desperation, probably looking for some means of escape. Fili hung onto the branch nearby, biting his lip worriedly.

Next to me, Gandalf suddenly plucked the nearest pinecone. Was he crazy?! Before I could yell that this wasn't the time to collect souvenirs, he set it alight with his staff, then threw the flaming missile into the midst of the wargs below us, all of which yelped and backed off. One fled, its head on fire.

Nice one! I started to laugh - maybe a little too hysterically, but after the stress of the last few days, it felt _so good_ to finally get back at our enemies for once. I gladly accepted the flaming pinecone Gandaf handed me. Bilbo glanced over, caught on and picked his own pinecone, and I held mine against his until it caught alight. Together, we threw our weapons at the wargs.

Gandalf dropped more ready-lit missiles down for Fili and Kili, who simultaneously attacked. Pretty soon, everyone was armed and firing, and now a flaming wall separated us from the wargs. Azog didn't look _at all_ happy with this unexpected turn of events, and his expression of disbelief completely made my day.

Azog roared in anger and frustration, which prompted the dwarves to join in with my insane laughter, and we pounded each other on the back in congratulations. I was feeling pretty good about myself - and _of course, _this was the point where everything began to go wrong.

_Thanks_ for your support, Goddess of Luck.

The tree finally fell, and it didn't land against another tree. Nooooo, it _had_ to come to a rest dangling over the edge of the cliff.

Everyone screamed. I almost lost my grip, but Kili thankfully grabbed my hand and stopped me from falling to an unpleasant death. I righted myself with some effort, vaguely aware that we were now level with the ground. We were vulnerable.

Ori slipped and fell with a yelp. Fortunately, he managed to grab hold of something. Unfortunately, that something was Dori's leg. The added weight almost made Dori lose his grip.

"M-Mr Gandalf!" he cried, just before his arms gave way. Gandalf thrust out his staff as the two dwarves fell, and Dori caught it, but there was nothing more the wizard could do - unless, of course, Dori would rather be cremated than fall to his death.

The Pale Orc was grinning now - at least, I think he was. My eyesight was fuzzy; I must have smacked my head against something as we fell. I got the feeling our luck had finally run out. Gandallf couldn't save us this time. There was no Rabbit-man to lure off the wargs. Quite suddenly, I decided I didn't want to die, not without a fight, and I subconsciously gripped Kili's hand a little tighter as my spark of defiance ignited.

I don't know what would have happened if the following events hadn't occurred - I probably would have charged our enemies, got overrun and eaten. Thorin saved me from that fate, but I almost wish he hadn't.

Thorin glared at Azog, probably having the same thoughts as me - that he wouldn't go out without making a last stand. Apparently he took it literally, because he began to get up, Oakenshield in one hand and Orcrist in the other. The Pale Orc regarded him with interest, his expression saying, "challenge accepted."

The wind picked up, whipping back the dwarvern king's dark hair as he strode towards his opponent. Thorin broke into a run, leaping through the wall of flames, eyes determinedly fixed on Azog, his shield and sword raised, looking every bit the King under the Mountain that he was. Azog, however, didn't look quite so impressed - he spread his arms with a smirk. _Come and get me,_ he silently taunted. My hands curled into fists, accidently crushing Kili's fingers. I apologised distractedly and let go.

Thorin's face was set in a silent snarl. He was sprinting now, and was almost upon Azog. But at the last minute, the white warg gathered itself and sprang over Thorin's head, its paw colliding with the dwarf and brutally knocking him down.

Horrified, I turned to Bilbo to see what he would make of the dwarf who'd shunned him for the whole trip getting beaten up by a common enemy. But Bilbo wasn't beside me any more. He was standing, drawing his small sword, a look of determination set in iron on his face. Meanwhile, Dwalin yelled his king's name and tried to run to his aid, but the branch he was on snapped, and Dwalin was forced to hang on as the branch swung away from the main body of the tree, connected to the trunk by a few splinters of wood.

The white warg skidded to a halt and turned back round to charge once again. Thorin struggled to get to his feet, ignoring the gash on his forehead, but he was barely standing when Azog swung his club with a yell. Thorin was hit squarely in the chest, and he went flying again. Dimly, as if I was underwater, I head Balin's despairing voice: "NO!" His face was scrunched up in hopelessness.

I tried to make myself stand. I knew I had to do something, had to help Thorin somehow, but my body was suddenly slow and unresponsive. With a huge effort of will, I managed to get to my feet and draw my knife, but my limbs were numb and slow to respond due to exhaustion and getting smacked around hour after hour by my enemies.

The warg pounced, and Thorin yelled in pain. I lurched sideways (and nearly fell from the effort of moving a tiny amount to the left) to get a better view... then wished I hadn't. The white warg had picked Thorin up like a _freaking chew toy,_ and was shaking the dwarf violently in its jaws. Finally, it let go mid-swing, and Thorin - once again - went flying, to land sprawled on his back on a rock that projected from the ground. He shifted feebly, and I was impressed that he was still conscious.

Azog, a look of fake pity on his hateful face, turned to his minions and spoke an order - probably, "kill him!". One of the orcs obliged; dismounting, it drew a curved sword and menacingly advanced on the fallen king.

_Do something!_ I screamed at myself mentally, but I still couldn't make myself function properly. Forcing back my own pain and exhaustion, I tried to take a step forwards, but my muscles evaporated and I almost fell flat on my face. _You will obey,_ I told my body sternly, and it might have responded, just a little. I took another step, knowing that I was too far away, knowing that the orc's blade was now raised above Thorin's head, knowing that I would never make it in time...

And then the orc was lying flat on it's back, and someone (read: _Bilbo_) was stabbing it in the chest, and I wanted to collapse with relief but couldn't, because I knew that Bilbo was alone in a sea of enemies, standing guard over Thorin but backing away as the white warg advanced...

My brain crashed into something inside my head, and my vision cleared. The fuzziness in my mind disintegrated, and I knew that I had to help the two of them, whatever the cost.

_Since when did you become so self-sacrificial?_ asked my brain unhelpfully.

A tap on my shoulder made me jump about a metre into the air. Spinning sharply round, I found myself facing Fili and Kili, swords and daggers in hand, their cheeky grins gone from their faces. Kili jerked his head. No words were exchanged, but I understood. _Shall we?_ Of course, we'd probably die in the attempt, and we'd all be dinner for the lucky wargs (honestly, what does the Goddess of Luck _see _in them?), right after Thorin becomes headless. But a huge grin spread across my face, because there was absolutely nothing better in the world than dying alongside two of my first - and best ever - friends. Even if they _were_ dwarves.

Together, we sprinted along the burning, fallen tree towards Bilbo, who still stood guard over Thorin. And Dwalin was right behind us.

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><p><strong>...That had a lot less Shadow humour than I intended.<strong>

**But it was fun! I have honestly never written anything like that before. Again, sorry for the wait! =) My mum offered to type it up again for me when I lost it all, but she had no idea what this chapter even was, so I refused.**

**-Treebutton**


	8. The Eagles Are Coming!

**I'm thinking of doing a LOTR One-Shot, in which the Fellowship end up in the modern world! In fact, I've already written it, and my parents are still wondering whether or not I should post it because it isn't as good as this one. Shadow isn't in it, for one. So what do you think? =)**

**I got a cut on my thumb from a sharp test tube rim in Chemistry. It's really minor, but really annoying because I can't hold my pen properly since the cut's right where my thumb is supposed to bend, and that's where my pen sits. Basically, I can't write properly, and I call this a 'disaster'.**

**This story takes up thirty six pages in my word document. WHAT. That's _easily_ got to be the largest file I have. 0_0**

**YOU GUYS SHOULD LISTEN TO ERUTAN! SHE'S AMAZING!**

**DISCLAIMER: The plot and characters of The Hobbit do not belong to me. But Shad is MINE!**

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><p>It started off really well, actually. I beheaded the first orc that charged me and stabbed a second, while Fili, Kili and Dwalin crashed into the wargs with loud battle cries. I, however, ran towards Bilbo, not slowing down as I approached the hobbit who was currently attempting to protect a defenceless Thorin. As I neared the two of them, something slammed me in the back and I flew forwards to give Bilbo an unplanned tackle-hug. We both collapsed, though thankfully not on top of Thorin. In his unconscious and rather beaten-up state, our extra weight wouldn't be great for his health.<p>

"Sorry," I muttered distractedly once the two of us were back on our feet. Bilbo just nodded grimly, a strained expression on his face like he was trying to smile at me but was unable to form one due to the circumstances. I ruffled his hair, for a moment forgetting the immediate danger we were in, and my own expression loosened. I beamed at Bilbo, unsure why I was suddenly so happy but feeling the overwhelming urge to smile. The hobbit looked a little surprised and he might have smiled back if he hadn't looked over my shoulder. Apparently he saw something he didn't particularly like, because his eyes widened considerably and he pointed in alarm.

I turned around - only to behold a warg pounce on me, paws extended. Either it was trying to give me a hug, or it wanted to rip me to shreds of dead elf essence. Unfortunately, it was probably the latter.

At any rate, exhaustion was once again threatening to catch up with me, and I couldn't dodge in time. Its extra weight caused me to lose my balance, and down we both tumbled, my knife clattering onto the rocks out of reach. NONONONONO! COME TO ME, O FAITHFUL KNIFE! My mental screaming, however, did nothing. My weapon lay unresponsively, two inches from my fingertips.

Bilbo, however, ran to help me, and managed to stick his sword in... well, a place it would probably really hurt. The warg stiffened, then yelped like a puppy that had been thrown across the room. It scrambled off me and almost tripped over itself trying to get away from the hobbit.

With a groan, I accepted Bilbo's outstretched hand and stood, wincing a little at my aching back, legs and pride. Bilbo's voice sounded, asking a question - probably seeking a confirmation that I was all right - so I mumbled something that might've been "yes". Fortunately, nothing was broken, which meant that I was probably still able to fight.

I had just finished recovering when an orc made the stupid decision to attack me. Why it did, I have not the faintest idea, but orcs aren't the brightest creatures, after all. As it reached me, I sliced it in half, straight through the middle of its torso. Sorry, little orc, I've had enough of your kind for one day.

Bilbo and I positioned ourselves in front of Thorin, standing back to back as we fended off our enemies. Unfortunately, it was all I could do not to collapse of exhaustion, and as I glanced around I wondered if dwarves, hobbits, wargs or orcs ever got tired; all my friends were either still full of energy, or simply very good at hiding their weariness. And then of course there were the wargs that growled and tried to eat anyone that strayed within striking distance of its jaws, and the orcs that kept shrieking loudly and charging us over and over, which was very annoying. It didn't really help much, either.

Then Bilbo made the mistake of rushing at Azog, who was still seated comfortably, wearing a smug smile, on the rump of that evil pet warg of his. However, the Pale Orc swatted my poor hobbit aside with his club before Bilbo could even raise his sword.

Under normal circumstances, I would have screamed Bilbo's name, before not-so-calmly ripping off Azog's arms and stuffing them right up his... erm... never mind. Details are irrelevant. As it was, I could do nothing more than growl like a warg and attempt to impale Azog in the leg, but he simply shifted a little and moved out of reach. Then his warg leapt over me, clearing the top of my head in one effortless bound (which would NOT have been possible if I had been a _normal_ elf, thanks). Its paw slammed into me in the process and knocked me flat on my back as the two meanies advanced on Bilbo.

It felt as if someone had hit the 'off' switch on my body; my limbs suddenly and unhelpfully refused to function correctly. Even if I _had_ been able to move at all, what could I do? I was too far away to help Bilbo, my only weapon being a knife (I could have thrown it, but then I'd be rather weaponless), and that goblin had freaking _snapped my bow._

Oh. _Oh._ That memory made me so mad, the lights flickered back on and I sprang to my feet, my eyes probably that weird shade of green that they go when I get angry (that had probably happened while I was facing off with the Goblin King as well). Then I promptly fell over again, this time on my face, in the best Epic Fail manoeuvre I had ever achieved.

Well, then. There go the lights. This was going to prove a little trickier than I thought.

The fire we'd caused to keep the wargs away was now blazing maybe a little too fiercely, and I figured that it was as likely we'd burn to death as get eaten by wargs, or beheaded and _then_ eaten by orcs.

Some kind of disturbance suddenly erupted nearby; the orcs were screeching more loudly now, with random warg howls interjecting through the clamour. With the last of my strength, I flipped over on my back, to see... a very large bird swooping overhead.

More were snatching up our opponents at random and depositing them over the side of the cliff, and though their massive wings buffeted the flames and sent the fire swirling into a frenzy, I could not have been more ridiculously glad.

Once the orcs and their mounts were successfully scattered, the giant eagles began to collect us. One landed beside Thorin and gently picked up the dwarf in its talons before soaring off; a second grabbed Bilbo, despite his protestations, and dropped him over the edge onto the cliff - thankfully onto the back of another eagle that flew out of nowhere to catch him. I could also make out Dori and Ori seated on one of the birds that was circling the scene of destruction as more of their friends rescued the other dwarves.

Dimly, I registered talons closing over my body as an eagle returned for me. My struggle to stay awake was forgotten as it bore me to the cliff's edge and dropped me.

My response? "AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

That is, until I landed with an uncomfortable thump right onto the back of yet another eagle, its sleek feathers soft yet slippery under my numb fingers. Unfortunately, I'd landed harder than I would have liked, right on a rather _delicate_ body part. Wincing in pain, I repositioned myself and glanced around, now fully awake (seriously, _you_ try landing right between your legs on top of a large animal. It helps reduce sleepiness).

Gandalf, still perched on top of the fallen tree (the tree, may I add, that was about to be consumed by the fire), was the only member of the Company left on the cliff top. As the base of the tree erupted in flames, he jumped.

Just in time, too, because at that moment the precariously-balanced plant gave way, plummeting down onto the rocks below in a streak of orange fire. Gandalf himself was caught by the last eagle; showing no signs of pain upon landing, he leant forwards as his ride winged its way onwards to catch up with the rest of us, while Azog's roar of fury faded in the distance.

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><p>Dawn broke slowly in the east, and shafts on sunlight burst through cracks in the greying sky to create a strange, surreal atmosphere in the chilly air above the ground. Greenery, rivers, waterfalls, boulders and fields sped below us as the eagles bore us towards the waking sun. The problem was that with the light, we could now see Thorin. And he did not look too healthy, with his blood-smeared clothes and badly scratched face and hands. His eyes were closed; he hung limply in the talons of the eagle that had saved him.<p>

Fili and Kili, whose eagle flew a little behind and to left of mine, stared in horror at their uncle. I tried hard not to look at their devastated faces. Fili cried Thorin's name, his voice cracking with despair; and I bit my lip, upset. There was no way to tell whether Thorin was alive.

Despite my downcast mood, the rocking motion of the eagle was monotonous and rhythmic, and my efforts to stay awake did nothing to prevent my eyes from closing. It couldn't hurt to take a nap, could it? Shifting into a more comfortable position on the eagle's back, I yawned. This was actually kind of comfortable **(A/N: *yawns* this is making me tired. I'll just be... over there... wake me if... you... need... *zzzzzzz*)**.

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><p>Something hit my shoulder. Something solid, hard and very uncomfortable. Opening my eyes, I discovered said thing to be the ground.<p>

Our eagle friends had now disappeared, and everyone was gathered around something - or some_one,_ which was lying in the middle of the stone shelf we were apparently on. No one seemed to wonder how we were going to get _off_ it, but I suppose dwarves are rock climbers, judging from my visit to Moria several years ago, where the dwarves back then had climbed down into the shafts to collect random stones. For what purpose, I had no idea.

Through the legs of the dwarves, I made out a bluish-grey fur-lined coat and a small smattering of blood, which meant that it was probably Thorin that the others were checking up on. I struggled to my feet, swayed, then regained my balance and made my way to the crowd of dwarves to try and see what was going on.

Once I'd managed to shoulder my way through to the front, the sight I beheld was quite a worrying one. There was Thorin, lying motionless on his back, eyes closed. I couldn't tell if he was breathing or not. Swallowing hard, I prayed to Valinor that he was alive - because as much as I hated him, he _was_ Fili and Kili's uncle; my two best friends clearly cared about him. Beside the dwarf knelt Gandalf, who raised his hand and passed it over Thorin's bleeding face, all the while muttering magic mumbo-jumbo under his breath.

For a moment, nothing happened, and everyone tensed, which would have looked funny if the situation hadn't been so serious. Then Thorin cracked open an eye.

The relief I felt was surprisingly strong, and I released a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. Around me, the others were doing the same. My friends began to grin, and, despite myself, so did I.

Thorin mumbled something like, "the daft thing." I wasn't sure what _that_ meant, but Gandalf smiled.

"It's all right," he assured Thorin. "Bilbo is here, He's quite safe,"

Bilbo, who stood a little apart from the rest, gave a short sigh of relief and watched Thorin as he unsteadily attempted to get to his feet. Dwalin and Kili gripped their king's arms and hauled him upright, but Thorin shook them off as soon as he was standing. With a sudden anger in his scary eyes, he turned to Bilbo and, in a harsh voice, hissed, "you."

His tone was more frightening than it would have been if he'd shouted. The smiles evaporating from our faces, we stood in tense silence as Thorin, breathing hard, glared at the hobbit.

"What were you doing?" the dwarf growled. "You nearly got yourself killed!" Thorin began to approach Bilbo, who was glancing around in confusion, an alarmed and hurt expression on his face.

"Did I not say that you would be a burden?" continued Thorin, his voice now barely louder than a whisper - still angry, but there was another, underlying emotion in his tone that I couldn't identify. "That you would not survive in the wild, and you had no place amongst us?"

I desperately wanted to charge forwards and defend Bilbo. That ungrateful little dwarf man! But a random annoying voice inside me insisted that I hear him out before attacking.

Bilbo was staring at the rocks between his feet, which made me want to grab the nearest stone and throw it at Thorin's head. And I was honestly about to do just that when the dwarvern king, shaking his head, his voice now clogged with regret, said, "I have never been so wrong, in all my life."

Barely able to hold in a sob at the emotional-ness of the moment, I simply stared as Thorin did the last thing I expected him to ever do.

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><p><strong>Yep. This is no cliff-hanger, everyone knows this moment, but I figured it was a nice way to end the chapter. =D<strong>

**I had trouble finding a suitable end for this chapter. And a suitable name.**

**AHHHHH THE BATTLE OF FIVE ARMIES COMES OUT ON FRIDAYYYYYYYYYY I'M GOING TO HATE THE FILM I JUST KNOW IT.**

**Meanwhile, I've started watching Full Metal Alchemist IT IS AMAZING WATCH IT NOW! *Dies of amazingness***

**-Treebutton**


	9. Invisible Dwarves Are Very Dangerous

**I... am an awful person. I'M SORRYYYYYYYYYYYYY!**

**Borys68 - First, I'd like to point out that 'the girl' in fact has a name... s****econd, I actually meant her to be the same height as Kili, who is one of the taller dwarves; I'll have to go back and change a couple of things if I didn't make it clear enough before. If I'm correct, Dwalin is the tallest, then Thorin, _then_ Kili...? ****And third, I myself am unnaturally short, and I like being able to relate to my characters. Also, I think a large part of this story's (attempted) humour revolves around Shadow's height. I hope you understand.**

**Shadow: A_ttempted..._ XD**

**Me: I'M NOT A FUNNY PERSON OK? ALSO, HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN THAT SOMEONE CALLED YOU 'THE GIRL'?**

**Shadow: They _what now?! _0_0**

**Me: ...read the reviews... just read them...**

**So... I saw the Hobbit last Saturday... it kind of took the motivation out of me. *Sighs* if you haven't seen it yet, either _don't_ see it or bring a lot of tissues. Seriously. Don't say I didn't warn you when the black hole appears in your chest.**

**DISCLAIMER: I am a fourteen-year-old girl who is aspiring to be an author. Not a middle-aged man with a habit of stretching small children's books into three long films about a bunch of dwarves shouting.**

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><p>Who would've thought that <em>Thorin, <em>Sir Majestic hater-of-everyone-who-wasn't-a-dwarf, would even _look_ at Bilbo without glaring? Well, certainly not me. This was new.

So you can imagine my surprise - and delight - when the dwarf strode forwards and embraced Bilbo tightly. My emotions were perfectly mirrored on the hobbit's face, but then he smiled, and returned the hug. Now, I'm not the kind of person who cries easily; I'd taught myself not to, back in Mirkwood. But I'll admit that I got a bit teary-eyed at the pure emotional-ness of the moment. Unfortunately, Kili chose that moment to glance round at me - and then he cracked up.

Not _literally_, of course, because that would be extremely messy and painful...

I glared at Kili as angrily as I could while hastily drying my eyes. Is it possible for a crying person to look angry? Dunno, but my friend did _not_ look intimidated. On the contrary, he just doubled over and laughed harder.

"What's your problem?!" I growled - though not very forcefully, since it came out more like, "wh-what's your - _sniff_ - problem?"

Kili straightened up and grinned at me. "You just don't seem like the crying sort," he noted. "And it's funny seeing you get emotional over a _hug_ between my uncle and a burglar."

"If _you_ burst into tears, and I laughed at you, how would _you_ feel, pray tell?" I demanded. Of course, I wasn't really angry. Kili was annoying; I liked that quality. I just enjoyed talking, and it felt kind of fun to tell him off. Don't ask what's wrong with me, because I have _no _idea. Then again, Kili has _issues,_ too.

My friend shrugged. "It would never happen," he assured me.

A few metres away, Thorin released Bilbo and smiled down at the hobbit. Woah, wait - _smiled?!_ What is this?! I had no idea Thorin's facial muscled worked in that way!

"I am sorry I doubted you," the dwarvern king said in a quiet voice that for once contained no trace of anger or hostility. Bilbo grinned, looking a little uncomfortable, but when he spoke, his tone was genuine and confident.

"No, I would have doubted me too. I'm not a hero," he admitted. "Or a warrior... not even a burglar," he added, glancing pointedly at Gandalf, who chuckled. The eagles, at this point, decided to majestically take flight, which was a nice touch, and everyone watched them go. Then, as Thorin looked away, his eyes became fixated on a distant point, over Bilbo's shoulder. The hobbit and I followed his gaze... and there, hazy and indistinct in the east, stood a single mountain.

Bilbo squinted at it. "Is that... what I think it is?" he asked no one in particular, but if he was hoping to get an answer, he was disappointed. Thorin strode to the edge of the ledge to get a better look at what was really just a really large, faraway rock. The dwarves all followed him and, as we gathered at the brink of the ledge, Gandalf spoke up. "Erebor... the Lonely Mountain. The last of the great dwarf kingdoms of Middle-Earth."

"Our home," Thorin whispered, barely audible (though I, with my super elf hearing, picked up every word. HA!).

It was at this point that I noticed that Thorin had _not_ included me in his apology-and-hug session. Then I realised that he'd probably been unconscious during the main charge, which I'd been a foremost participator of. Also, he hadn't yet kicked me out of the Company - I got the feeling that being even barely tolerant of me was, for him, more kindness than he'd grant almost any other elf. I was allowed to stay, for now, and that was far better than receiving a hug from the dwarf. As I watched him raise his head in pride at the sight of his far-off home, I decided that I was totally fine with being ignored.

A bird sped past me, heading eastwards, then another. They twittered cheerfully, and heads turned to follow their flight. "A raven!" Oin exclaimed. "The birds are returning to the mountain!"

"That, my dear Oin, is a _thrush,_" Gandalf corrected. Who cared? It was a bird, and the bird was flying towards the mountain. If they could do it, we could - even if we couldn't take that convenient short cut straight through the air. For a moment I wished the eagles would come back.

"But we'll take it as a sign. A good omen," said Thorin quietly, glancing at Bilbo, who nodded and, sighing in relief, replied, "you're right. I do believe the worst is behind us."

Staring out at the vast expanse we still had to cross, it was probably no surprise that I didn't believe anything of the sort, but I said nothing. No one else contradicted Bilbo either, so I had to put up with standing in silence and staring at the mountain. Why did the dwarves like to do that? Did they think they could reach it if they wished hard enough? For an elf, I was uncommonly fidgety. Oh, another thing to add to my list of Reason Why I Am Not A Proper Elf. In fact, I was seriously starting to doubt that I _was_ an elf...

Something stabbed me painfully in the shoulder, and I yelped in alarm. This prompted the thing that had prodded me to snigger, which meant that - unless talking twigs existed on this twigless rock - the culprit was a dwarf. Or a wizard, but Gandalf wasn't really the sort to start a poke-fight. I turned around to behold a cheerful-looking Kili.

"What was _that_ for?" I grumbled.

Kili shrugged. "Don't live in your dreams, Shad. Young dwarves such as Fili and I don't understand or enjoy deep thinking."

I grinned. "Sorry. I'm too used to believing that my imagination is better than reality."

**(A/N: Me too, Shad.)**

Fili strode up beside his brother. "You're going to be part of the Company for a few more weeks yet - unless you die, of course -" _(thanks for that happy thought) _"- so you'd better learn to be social."

How the hell does one socialise? I voiced my question, and in answer the brothers motioned for me to follow them as they seated themselves some way away, waiting for me to join them. Once I'd taken my place opposite Fili and Kili, the latter said, "now we chat."

So I said the first thing that came into my mind. "Do you know about the One Ring?" Fili nodded in answer, but Kili looked confused. I had to go through the entire backstory of Sauron, and the creation of the Ring, and the fact that the wearer turned invisible - not leaving out the part about it being a very evil object. I'm not sure how well I explained it, since I'd kind of skimmed over it, but Fili didn't offer up any additional information, so I assumed I'd pretty much covered it.

When I was done with the brief explanation, I asked of the two dwarves, "if you had the Ring, how would you use it?"

Kili grinned. "Being invisible opens up a whole range of possibilities. We could, I don't know, hide inside wardrobes in Rivendell at night and - and rattle them, and scare the young elves, and they wouldn't know it was us because they wouldn't see us! Or we could steal treasure from Thranduil..."

"I'd most likely grab Uncle Thorin from behind," Fili took over, getting into it. I laughed at his suggestion. "He wouldn't know what had hit him!" he added with amusement. "There's are so many pranking opportunities if we had this Ring, I'd never have a bored day for the rest of my life!"

The two of them looked ready to put their heads together and plan the next year of pulling practical jokes on their unsuspecting friends and family, but I had to remind them that a) we were not in possession of the Ring as of this moment, and b) the Ring was EVIL, and anyone who used it too often would probably become corrupted. At that, Kili made a face at me. "Shadow, you just _had_ to spoil the mood."

"Don't live in your dreams, Kili," I smirked, echoing his words to me from earlier. He scowled, though I could see the smile behind it, and in his eyes.

Fili spoke up, "any chance we could find the Ring, Shad? Do you have any idea where it might be?"

How would _I_ know? My world had been so narrow until a week ago that I'd never even heard of Azog before today. And, from what I'd gathered in our brief sort-of encounter, he most definitely _was_ someone most people had probably heard of. I assumed he had quite a large and unpleasant reputation among the older generation.

Then Bilbo happened to pass us, and stopped short as he heard our conversation. "What-what are you talking about?" he questioned casually enough, but the slight tension in his voice, and the way he held himself, stirred suspicion inside me.

"Nothing," Fili and Kili answered, speaking in perfect unison as though they'd rehearsed it. That obviously didn't reassure the hobbit, so I attempted to explain without giving too much away. Somehow, I felt it was better not to mention the Ring to him - dunno why. "I'm learning to socialise," I told him cheerfully. "We were just chatting about, you know, random stuff. And I taught Kili a little about Middle-Earth history. Told him about Sauron, and all that - the evil dark lord who lived ages ago. Heard of him?"

Bilbo scrunched up his face in concentration. "Maybe," he said uncertainly. "I think I recall reading about him in one of my books."

I gave him a smile, then sat back and laced my fingers together to indicate that the discussion was over. Then Gandalf called out to us, so the four of us got to our feet and approached him. The four of us. Walking together, like best friends.

It was a nice feeling.

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><p>"I'll go first," I volunteered. After all, I <em>was<em> an elf. Granted, a clumsy one - but I have rights to believe that I was still more nimble than my dwarvish friends. I also didn't want to fall on top of anyone beneath me; if anyone fell on _me,_ I could move out of the way. Oh, wait - they'd probably die. Eh. Anyway, swinging over the side of the rocky spire, I began my descent.

It wasn't hard. The weathered stone provided plenty of hand and footholds, ensuring a smooth climb. Some, such as Oin, were having difficulty, but Gloin assisted his brother. He only almost died about six times, and that was the record for the entire Company, which meant it was going pretty well.

However, heights weren't my best friends, especially after that horrible experience with the Stone Giants. I took it slowly and carefully, making sure I didn't look down, and I think the others were doing the same - though I didn't have the energy to glance upwards either.

We made it to the bottom without too much difficulty, although by the time it was over my hands were badly scratched, the muscles in my limbs were sore and I was feeling a little dizzy. After everyone was safely on the ground, we stood awkwardly in a huddle at the base of the tall rock.

"...What now?" I asked of no one in particular. Kili shrugged; Fili opened his mouth to speak before closing it again; Bilbo flashed me a nervous smile that was followed by that cute baffled half-frown of his. It was Gandalf that took charge - proclaiming that we must head east immediately, he promptly marched off in said direction with the entire company of dwarves (as well the elf and the hobbit) in tow.

That was when I realised we heading towards _Mirkwood._ The forest in which I grew up; the place in which every elf was a stupid, _tall,_ stuck-up, discriminating lump of [insert insult/swear word of choice here]. _Just. Great._ There was only one place in Middle-Earth I never wanted to return to - and we had to stroll straight through the middle of it. Oh, for the love of Elbereth and Ilúvatar, why _me?!_

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><p><strong>I apologise for such short chapters, but I really can't think of any conversations the characters could be having. That may be because I never have conversations with other people anyway... *cough*<strong>

**Guys, I'm off to Norway for Christmas! ASDFGHJKL IT WILL BE AMAZING! THERE WILL BE SNOW AND PRESENTS AND FUN AND FOOD AND LARGE GINGERBREAD HOUSES THAT PEOPLE KNOCK DOWN WITH SMALL HAMMERS BEFORE EATING - and yes, I do speak from experience, I went there for Christmas when I was seven or eight. I can't wait!**

**Unfortunately, that means I won't be able to update, because a) I probably won't be allowed to bring my laptop - I can't post chapters on my phone - and b) I'm going to be far too busy having snowball fights with my Norwegian cousins. XD**

**So MERRY/PIPPIN CHRISTMAS, MY WONDERFUL READERS! HUGS AND MARSHMALLOWS FOR ALL! *Marshmallows rain down* thank you to those few people who followed, favourite and reviewed, I really appreciate it. =D Have a wonderful, wonderful holiday!**

**-Treebutton**


	10. A VERY Large Thing

**Hey guys! How was your Christmas? ^^ I've been very busy over the holidays, so... much apologies and all that. I did start writing this chapter before New Year, but then I had to stop because I couldn't remember what happened next (I _still_ don't own the DVD of DoS). But here it is for all you lovely readers!  
><strong>

**DISCLAIMER: Why do _I_ have to say it every time?! Shad, it's your turn! **

**Shadow: Tree does_ not_ own anything! **

**Me: I OWN YOU, SHAD! **

**Shadow: *winces* ok, ok...**

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><p>"Will you calm down?" Kili complained as he watched me impatiently pace back and forth again and again, and again, and again, and again, and AGAIN, and AGAIN, and AGAIN. "...It's distracting."<p>

"What's taking him so long?" I muttered under my breath, ignoring the dwarf completely as I restlessly tapped my fingers against the hilt of my knife. The steady click of my nails on the pommel smashed holes in the tense silence. Bilbo had run ahead to scout, but he'd been gone for nearly two hours, and being the overprotective friend that I was... well, I was worried.

Kili shook my shoulder in a hopeful attempt to get me to listen, though it didn't make the slightest difference. When he realised this, he grabbed hold of my elbow and manually spun me round to face him.

"Shad," Kili said, speaking sternly and deliberately. "Sit down. You're wasting your energy." To get his point across even more effectively, he glared at me as he spoke.

It wasn't like I could argue with him. I was tired, and he was too stubborn and forceful and attractive and - ugh, never mind.

Annoyed - both at him and at my train of thoughts - I flopped down onto the stone. My friend joined me, looking pleased with himself, and silence resumed.

...Until I leapt to my feet, unable to sit still, and kicked a small stone at a clump of nearby bushes, where it disappeared among the leaves. Thoroughly fed up, I glared after it.

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><p>Several minutes later, the stealthy patter of hobbit feet reached my ears. Bilbo! Rushing to meet him, I dashed round a spur of rock blocking my view of the road ahead - and crashed into Bilbo. The only problem? Judging from his expression, he didn't bring good news.<p>

I gripped him by the shoulders. "What is it?" I demanded. Bilbo seemed rather taken aback by my concern, but before he could answer, Thorin interjected.

"How close is the pack?" he questioned.

"Too close," Bilbo panted. "A couple of leagues, no more. But that isn't the worst of it. We have another problem-"

"Did they see you?" I asked him in concern.

Bilbo shook his head. "No, that's not it-"

The wizard smiled, eyes gleaming proudly, and glanced at the dwarves. "What did I tell you? Quiet as a mouse!" Everyone murmured in pleased agreement. "Excellent burglar materiel," Gandalf added.

"Will you listen?" Bilbo burst out in exasperation, and the babble petered out. "I am trying to tell you there is something else out there!" the hobbit continued, stressing every word. Another round of muttering broke out.

Gandalf's expression was of suspicion, as though he knew what it was Bilbo had seen, and didn't like it. "What form did it take?" He spoke slowly. "Like... a bear?"

"Ye-" Bilbo broke off and stared at the wizard. "Y-yes, but it was bigger. Much bigger."

Bofur moved forwards. "You know about this beast?" he asked in alarm, his floppy hat bobbing. Rather than answering, Gandalf simply turned away, seemingly deep in thought.

"I say we double back," said voice from the cluster of dwarves, but another argued. Raised voices; then Gandalf spoke, loud enough to silence them. "There is a house, not far from here. A place where we might take refuge."

That got our attention. "Whose house?" growled Thorin (did he have to growl? No need to sound menacing, Thorin, you're already intimidating enough). "Are they friend or foe?"

Gandalf hesitated. "Neither. He will help us, or... he will kill us."

"Great," I grumbled. "This day gets better and better." Fili nudged me, his expression warning me that this was not a time for sarcastic remarks. I scowled right back.

"What choice do we have?" Thorin asked of no one in particular, and no on answered.

A howl - of course it was a warg; I'd become very familiar with the voices of the wolves that were constantly hunting us down - sounded behind us. Lovely, they'd probably caught our scent. And now the only option was to run to the house of the man who would either help us or kill us, and I was _not_ in the mood for more running... or more creatures who thought we looked better as corpses.

"None," said Gandalf gravely. This time, he did not say "RUN!" for which I was extremely grateful. That single word was beginning to hurt my brain. Instead, the wizard took off, with the rest of the Company in weary pursuit.

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><p>Note to self: dashing through streams leaves residue water in shoes, which is extremely uncomfortable. Liquid squelched between my toes as we sprinted over a meadow strewn with small white-and-purple flowers, and I had to supress the urge to sit down, whip of my shoes and tip them upside down. However, our enemies were closing (nothing new) which was an incentive to keep going. And then there was Gandalf up ahead, shouting, "come on!" every so often.<p>

As we stumbled downhill through a wooded area of land, a roar some way behind caused us to falter. It wasn't a warg, or an orc - I didn't recognise the sound. But I fairly certain I didn't want to meet it, so I was in agreement with Gandalf when he shouted, "this way, quickly!"

We poured on the speed. I did a double take as I passed Bombur, who seemed frozen with fear. Grabbing his arm, I shouted something incomprehensible and dragged him along (which took quite a lot of effort, since he was extremely heavy). Eventually he regained enough sense to move by himself, and I let him go.

Emerging from the woods, the Company entered another meadow, this one smaller than the first, with a hut at the far end. I suppose this was the home of the possibly-hostile being Gandalf had mentioned, so when the wizard declared that we must reach the house, I really wasn't surprised.

Bombur sprinted past me. Wait - _past_ me? I faltered for a moment and stared at his retreating figure as he overtook Gandalf. I swear I had never seen anyone run so fast in my life. Maybe he just had a _lot _of calories available to burn.

As we reached the gate, Gandalf ushered us in. "Come on, get inside!" he ordered, gesturing towards the door to the house, which was only about ten metres ahead. We were going to make it! Then Bombur launched himself at the door - and promptly rebounded. Fili, who was right behind him, had no time to slow down and hit the wood hard. I dug my heels in and somehow managed to stop without tripping. As the rest of the Company slowed down to crowd the door, I glanced over my shoulder at the edge of the woods behind us.

That was a mistake. Bursting out from between the trees came a _thing –_ a _very_ large thing with teeth and claws and an extremely loud voice. Roaring, it bounded towards us faster than a warg, fangs bared, black fur rippling over its muscles. The thing was a bear – but larger than any regular bear I'd seen. This creature was huge, and in a flash I remembered Bilbo's breathless report; a bear, he'd said, but much bigger. This must have been what he'd seen.

The bear _had_, admittedly, driven off the wargs, but it probably didn't much like us, either. The glare that was fixed on us, combined with its extended claws and bared teeth, kind of gave the hint.

The dwarves began to wrestle furiously with the thick wooden beam barring the door long before Gandalf shouted, "open the door!" As soon as Fili and Kili succeeded in lifting the bar, everyone piled inside with much shoving and squeezing, and two of the dwarves slammed the double doors inwards just as the bear crashed into them, its head partially lodged in the entrance. For several tense, horrible moments it strained hard against the dwarves who yelled incoherently and pushed against the doors on the other side, and as it snapped wildly, Bilbo's arm was almost bitten off; then it retreated with a snarl and the beam fell back.

With much grunting and panting, along with many a relieved sigh, my friends stumbled towards Gandalf, who stood towards the middle of the room with an odd expression – not fright, or alarm, or anger. I couldn't identify it. Before I could interrogate him, Ori spoke up.

"What _was_ that?" the young dwarf demanded, looking shaken. Gandalf's facial features didn't shift as he answered: "that is our host."

Silence.

Our – _what?!_ You mean that the bear who had just tried to kill us was – was the creature that, according to Gandalf, would potentially offer us his help? Judging from our recent encounter, I strongly suspected that he wasn't in a good mood today, and that he was far more likely to eat us on the spot if we gave him the chance. If _this_ was Gandalf's idea of _help_, I decided we were fine without any assistance, thank you.

"His name is Beorn," Gandalf informed us. _Who cares?_ "He's a skin-changer." _A what, now?_ "Sometimes he's a huge black bear-" _I noticed._ "-and sometimes he's a great strong man." _I hope the man is friendlier. _"The bear is unpredictable, but the man can be reasoned with. However... he is not over-fond of dwarves." _If he's fonder of dwarves than orcs are, that'd be a record for this trip._

My friends murmured uneasily amongst themselves. Ori pressed his ear to the door and listened the fading growls of the bear outside. "He's leaving," he said hopefully, but Dori dragged him back and warned him to stay away from the doors.

"It's not natural, none of it," the old dwarf insisted. "It's obvious; he's under some dark spell!"

Gandalf scowled. "Don't be a fool. He's under no enchantment but his own. Get some sleep, all of you," added the wizard, raising his voice. Bustling noises broke out as the dwarves obeyed, beginning to settle into the house - which was quite nice, come to think of it. "You'll be safe here tonight." And only I noticed him mutter under his breath: "I hope."

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><p><strong>Not a long chapter. I apologise. I'm just rather out of ideas at the moment...<strong>

**I'm fifteen today yay! =D My friend got me a MASSIVE Galaxy chocolate bar that I've already half finished... XD I'm so happy right now! And another girl gave me _more_ chocolate, which I swear is really bad for my health. I am going to be so hyper tonight.**

**If anyone is stubborn enough to be still reading this, thanks for bearing with me. I've had a hectic term so far, and I hope I'll be able to update faster with the coming chapters. Also, there's a plot twist coming... 0_0**

**-Treebutton**


	11. Skin-changers And Stuff

**Hi! I'M ALIVE! And it's Easter! I unfortunately can't promise quicker updates... I'm sorry. I don't have the DoS DVD, which is a real setback because I'm not creative enough to think up something for Shad to do other than talking to Beorn with everyone else.**

**I'm so bad at getting myself motivated, ugh. I'm going to go with the short (but more complicated) version instead of the original longer one, so I can get this over with (though said shorter version is going to take quite a lot of research on the history of Middle-Earth since I haven't finished reading LOTR, nor have I read the Silmarillion). I'm also working on an actual novel, which is prioritising itself.**

**I'm now more actively reading books and watching the Legend of Korra, which is taking up a lot of my time. On top of that plus my schoolwork... there isn't a lot of time for me to sit down and type up a decent chapter.**

**Also, I TOTALLY LOVE you guys for following and favouriting this story (thank you THANK YOU SO MUCH!), and I understand that hitting the 'like' button is a lot quicker than typing a comment, but really - how hard is it? ;) Please review, feedback is really important for improvement and development! Constructive criticism is welcome. If you can find the time to read this, surely you can spare a couple of minutes to comment on the chapter and maybe point out ways I can improve? Please and thank you. =)**

**Anyway, on with the story!**

**DISCLAIMER: Nothing you see in this chapter, apart from Shadow, belongs to me.**

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><p>I had hoped for a restful night. And of course I got the exact opposite.<p>

_In my dream, a woman was running. Running as if the entire population of Mordor was in pursuit, a small child clutched tightly in her arms. The woman's dark brown hair fluttered wildly around her face, and as she shook it back, a pair of pointed elven ears were revealed._

_Her breath came in ragged heaves; sweat glimmered on her forehead by the light of the half-moon that rode stormy seas overhead, partially concealed by the patchy forest canopy under which the woman fled._

_She dodged trees and leapt streams with incredible agility, her face a mask of barely concealed fear, torn and ripped travelling clothes hanging limply from her thin frame._

_I couldn't see who - or what - was chasing her, but by the frantic glances she spared over her shoulder, it was obviously something very, very unfriendly. Sympathy welled in me; I'd been chased by my share of baddies, and I understood how she must be feeling. Only it must have been worse - throughout my travels, my friends the dwarves had accompanied me and watched my back. Aside from the baby she carried, this woman was utterly alone._

_On and on she ran, while the baby cried in confusion and her breaths came steadily more quickly. As the trees began to thin, I caught a glimpse of the surrounding area - a vast forest behind, mountains up ahead... and the cliff edge the woman almost toppled over as she veered to the right. Gasping, she righted herself and spun to face her attacker._

_Just as my companions and I were trapped on the clifftop outside Goblin Town, so was she cornered in a similar place. Apparantly there was more than one enemy, based on the way she swung her head from side to side. Her body was tense, as though preparing to fight, but she carried no visible weapon. She set the child down and straightened again._

_Then a voice spoke, a voice that growled and screeched and echoed all at once, a voice that chilled me and paled the woman's face. "You have nowhere to run, and no means to fight," it said. "And so I will allow you one last chance. Give us the child, and you will be spared." A metalic screech as a sword was drawn. _

_"I will not hand over my daughter to the likes of you," the woman spat. "Go back to Mordor and inform the Dark Lord that he will not get his way this time!"_

_Yeah! You tell him, strange woman!_

_A disappointed noise emanated from the attacker, and he approached. I heard his footsteps directly behind me, but I couldn't turn around. The woman glared at him so hard I was surprised not to hear the telltale sizzle that meant a pair of eye-shaped holes were being burnt through the attacker's flesh. I myself flinched, though I knew I wasn't really there, and that the woman couldn't see me._

_"Then we will have to dispose of the two of you," hissed the voice coldly. The woman simply stared back, undaunted, her expression determined and focused - and _angry_._

_Then a really weird thing happened. Her hazel eyes flashed gold, and her body began to distort and shrink. Grey hair sprouted from her flesh; her ragged clothes melted into her skin; that proud, beautiful face elongated and wrinkled in a ferocious snarl. In less that a second, the woman was gone, and in her place stood a large grey wolf that growled furiously as it stood protectively over the child. My eyes widened._

_The wolf and I locked eyes, and a jolt went through me. Then it gathered itself - and lunged straight at me._

Eyes flying open, I jerked upright with a gasp, my heart thumping erratically in my chest.

* * *

><p>The next time I awoke, it was to the blurry outline of a bee that was perched on my nose.<p>

With a yelp I swatted it off and staggered clumsily to my feet, rubbing my eyes. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, and by its light I noticed what I'd missed at first - the animals. Mostly horses and bees, roaming the interior of the cottage as though the house belonged to them, though I located a scatting of other barnyard creatures as well. Waving away a small goat that approached me curiously, I raised my head and followed the sound of murmuring voices into the next room.

I entered and registered all thirteen dwarves - plus Bilbo and Gandalf - clustered around a heavy wooden dining table. They sat quietly as they ate breakfast, in surprising contrast to their usual rowdy table manners. A few glanced at me in acknowledgement, but most of them had their attention fixed on a really big man at the head of the table.

Well. I don't blame them.

He was tall, taller than Gandalf, and looked twice as strong. Brown hair was swept back from his face, and his shoulder-length sideburns tickled his shoulders. He spoke to the dwarves in a voice that was quiet, deep and oddly reassuring, although there was an edge to it that suggested readiness to turn to anger.

I caught Azog's name in their muted conversation but made no attempt to pay attention. Food called to me. Grabbing a slice of bread, along with a hunk of cheese, I scarfed down the simple breakfast within seconds. Wasn't there a thing called manners? What were manners, again? Never mind.

Realising I was the only one eating - and the only one making any noise apart from the tall man who continued to speak in that slow, deep voice of his, come to that - I swallowed hastily and sat back, allowing myself a sheepish smile. Fili, who I was sat next to, returned it grimly and muttered, "Beorn. That's him." He indicated to the tall man.

_Oh._ I nodded in understanding and drew my knees up to my chest, resting my chin on them. Huddled in my seat, I decided to hear what Beorn had to say.

"...The Defiler killed most of my family," Beorn was saying in his rumbling voice. "But some he enslaved - not for work, you understand, but for sport. Caging skin-changers and torturing them seemed to amuse him." Poor Beorn. Sympathy welled inside me.

"There are others like you?" Bilbo asked in surprise.

The skin-changer glanced at him, his face expressionless. "Once there were many..."

"And now?" Bilbo prompted. Beorn turned to face the hobbit, and now there was a deep sadness in his brown eyes as he replied, "now... there is only one."

I badly wanted to wrap my arms around the poor lonely bear-man, but somehow I doubted the gesture would be appreciated. And anyway, I didn't think my arms would fit around his thick torso at all.

There was a hesitant pause as each hobbit, dwarf, wizard and elf took a moment to silently pity Beorn, who broke the silence after a couple of seconds by telling us that we needed to reach the mountain before Durin's Day, and that our time was running out, but I stopped listening. Azog the Defiler liked to torture defenseless skin-changers... that didn't surprise me. Typical Azog stuff. I remembered the woman in my dream who had turned into a wolf... was she a skin-changer? I had never heard of the likes of her before - had Azog tortured and killed off her race too?

Thoughtfully returning to reality, I was just in time to hear Beorn murmur, "the darkness lies upon that forest."

_Say what?_ Listening in once again, I leant forwards slightly to catch more of Beorn and Gandalf's earnest discussion.

"Fell things creep beneath those trees," the skin-changer continued. Fili and Kili exchanged glances beside me. "There is an alliance between the orcs of Moria and the Necromancer in Dol Guldur. I would not venture there, except in great need."

Oh, crap. This was about Mirkwood, wasn't it? _Sigh._

"We will take the elven road," suggested Gandalf. Clenching my teeth, I resisted the urge to scream. Dwarves were noisy things, and if the elves neglected to notice us on the journey through the forest, it would be a miracle. Maybe I could hide out of sight behind Gandalf if they intercepted us.

"The elves of Mirkwood are not like their kin," said Beorn gravely. _True; at least in comparison to the elves of Rivendell..._ "They are less wise, more dangerous. But it matters not..."

Thorin fixed his eyes on Beorn. "What do you mean?"

"The lands are crawling with orcs," the skin-changer warned, "and their numbers are growing. _You_ are on foot - you will never reach the forest alive."

Thorin and Beorn had a brief stare-off, and the tension in the air that seperated them mounted. Finally, up stood Beorn from his seat and narrowed his eyes. "I don't like dwarves. They're greedy... and blind. Blind to the lives of those they deem lesser than their own." His fingers scooped up a white mouse that he lifted off the dining table. He stared at it expressionlessly, before lifting his intense eyes to meet those of the dwarf king. And, after a hesitation, growled, "but orcs I hate more."

I mentally let out a long breath and allowed my inner consciousness a small smile. The atmosphere surrounding the table similarly relaxed.

Beorn's expression did not change, but his voice took on a less ominous tone as he asked of us, "what do you need?"

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><p>The next hour found us mounted on ponies and ready to go - except for Gandalf, of course, who had chosen to ride a stallion. These ponies were unlike any I had ever seen - white, but with large black splotches all over their coats and feathered hooves. My former trusted steed Star - I have no idea what happened to her - had been a smooth white, like ice, but with a sprinkling of tiny spots along her rump that resembled snow. She reminded me of winter. These ponies were more reminiscent of mud-splattered snowballs.<p>

All right, maybe I still held a /slight/ grudge against equines, after that broken-ankle incident in the woods just before I joined the Company. Maybe.

"Your hunters are not far behind," growled Beorn as he watched our preparations to leave. _Oh please - our hunters are always right on our tail. We're used to it!_ But I said nothing, and off we rode.

Gandalf kept us at a swift pace, because despite my internal scoffing, Beorn was unfortunately correct. We couldn't afford to let Azog and his orcish minions - let's not forget the wargs, either! - catch up. Though we saw no sign of pursuit, we sped across the sunlit green slopes without pausing at all to admire the view, and all too soon we were reigning in our mounts at the edge of Mirkwood.

Home sweet home.

_Ha._ As if. I snorted quietly.

Gathered around Gandalf in a loose huddle, we stared without much enthusiasm at the forest that sat before us like an ocean - vast, ancient and impassable. The trees loomed ominously and seemed to frowned at me in disapproval. Gandalf dismounted and strode forwards into the fringes of the woods, staff aloft, gazing up at the canopy as though answers would come floating down like rain straight onto the wizard's pointy hat.

"The elven gate," he muttered softly. Facing us, he spoke in a louder voice, "here lies our path through Mirkwood!" _Joy._

"No sign of the orcs! We have luck on our side," someone noted in satisfaction, though that simply made me more uneasy. Orcs were masters of ambush. Gandalf obviously shared the same mindset, for he spared the dwarf who had spoken - Dwalin - a warning glance.

On a distant hilltop, silhouetted against the sun, stood a lone figure - a large beast, maybe a bear. The sight was reassuring. Though I doubted Beorn could see from that distance, I nodded in thanks and farewell. I couldn't be sure, but I think he inclined his head in return.

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><p><strong>Yeah, Shad has never encountered a piebald. XD Oh yeah - t<strong>**he dream is relevant, and will be explained!**

**Not a very long chapter, I know. About half of of it is made up of apologetic author's notes. I would have written more but I had to end it there, because I couldn't find the next part on YouTube. *Sigh***

**Happy Easter, wonderful readers! Have a great holiday!**

**-Treebutton**


	12. Do you want me to apologise?

**I forgot I wrote this story. XD**

**Well I guess you can probably tell that this story is discontinued. I'm busy watching ****yaoi**** anime and reading and school work and writing original stuff and trying to make friends with people and... to be honest I don't particularly like ARU-FA any more so... eh.**

**I'll keep this up in case anyone still wants to read it but it won't be updated. Thank you for reading it. I love you so much for it. 3**

**-Treebutton out.**

**(I write occasionally on my new account Arctik Rose if you wanna check it out. =P)**


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